Nightingale
by lks358
Summary: As Christine enters her junior year of college, an unlikely encounter and a surprising offer are the last things she expects. The last thing that Erik expects is for her to accept. Modern day, E/C.
1. Chapter 1

It was a rare thing for him to leave the house. Even as he put the keys in the ignition, even as he started down the deserted road that led him farther and farther from the safety and isolation of his home, he couldn't quite explain what pushed him. Uninspired and frustrated by his inability to compose even a single decent note, he had simply stormed out. After a few minutes of driving, his mind had cleared a little, but the restlessness had not lessened; the thought of turning around and going back felt unbearably stifling. It was enough to make him just a little careless—just enough that he didn't feel compelled to return home just for the security of it. So, with a sigh, he resigned to go to the only place he could.

Erik had been to the little café only a handful of times over the past few years, and always at Nadir's insistence. While not exactly comfortable, the Nightingale was, at least, less uncomfortable than any other public place. Despite being in a particularly active part of town, it was an inconspicuous little place, tucked away down a glorified alley and situated on the second floor of an old building above a perpetually empty restaurant. The café was a maze of small rooms with quiet, discreet corners where Erik could sit undisturbed, and it was staffed mostly by exhausted university students who never spared a glance up from their phones and textbooks when he entered. He went completely unnoticed as he slipped inside and took a seat at a particularly secluded table. There he sat for a few minutes, studying the grain of the wooden table and doing his best to fade into the background. The sound of a chair scraping across from him made him look up sharply.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Nadir said, looking at him with a mix of suspicion and interest.

"You are the one who claims I should get out more," Erik said.

"Is anything wrong?"

"Only my own lack of ability," came Erik's dry reply.

Nadir relaxed a little at the knowledge that there was no emergency, though that didn't make Erik's presence here less surprising. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Fine."

Erik had turned away and watched from the corner of his eye as Nadir stood to go to the counter. It was a few minutes before he returned, and Erik noticed that the sound of chatter in the café had grown louder since he'd come in. Leaning over to peer into the next room, he saw a microphone being set up at the opposite side of the room, and the tables surrounding it were quickly filling up with students. Erik sat back, shifting nervously at the thought of the crowd forming so close by. But he was separated from all those people, he reasoned, and he didn't really want to return home just yet…

Nadir returned before Erik could decide on what to do. He nodded his thanks for the proffered cup of coffee and sipped it obligingly as Nadir watched him.

"I still don't understand why any of this is appealing to you," he said with another cautious glance toward the adjoining room as there was a burst of laughter over the growing chatter. "You should have picked a quieter line of business."

Nadir shrugged, unbothered. It had been a long time since Erik's tendency toward brusqueness had done more than mildly annoy him. "It keeps me occupied. Stay for a while—it's good for you, and you might find open mic night entertaining."

"I don't know if that would be a good idea," Erik said hesitantly.

"It's up to you," Nadir told him. "But I need to get back to work." He moved to stand but paused, looking at Erik. "I'll be around if you need something," he added, and Erik nodded in acknowledgement. As much as he hated to admit it, Nadir's presence was a comfort—at least there was one person around who he didn't have to be wary of.

He sank back into his chair and watched the rooms around him for a minute after Nadir left, still unsure whether to go or stay. Returning home to his stunted composition was unappealing, and he seemed to be tucked away enough here that people weren't taking notice of him. And perhaps that self-destructive part of him wanted to test how long he could remain in public before some sort of disaster struck. Maybe he _would_ find this interesting. At any rate, it would be something different, and that was apparently what he was craving. One of the staff approached the microphone and announced the beginning of the night, and Erik watched from his partially concealed table. He might as well give it a try.

The first few acts weren't terrible, but they were nothing exceptional, and the diversion quickly began to lose its amusement. Erik sighed, deciding that it was time he tried to slip out. At least this had killed some time, and now Nadir couldn't pester him about never leaving the house. Perhaps he would be able to regain his focus by the time he returned home and would be able compose enough to be somewhat satisfied. He started to stand, but a glance up made him pause.

He didn't know what it was about the girl that caught his attention. She seemed entirely ordinary—meek, even—as she stepped up to the mic. Her wide, dark eyes darted nervously over the crowd in front of her. The beat-up guitar she held was cheap and bulky, and Erik wondered how she managed to wrap her fingers around the neck. When she mumbled a quiet introduction, she was barely audible over the dull noise of the café. She hesitated, glancing around her again, before seeming to reach some measure of resolve and plucking out a few opening notes.

It was her voice that made Erik sit down again. He had never heard a voice like hers; he'd hardly imagined that this voice could even exist. Pure and light, but strong. The girl began a little shakily, but even her nerves could not conceal the quality of her voice. There was something about it that struck him—that spoke to him on such a core level that though he couldn't quite understand or articulate it, he could _feel_ it. With a bit of training, she could be extraordinary. Maybe she could even rival him someday.

She gradually grew more confident as she continued, her voice growing clearer and her face relaxing out of its pinched, frightened expression. Erik's eyes never left her as she sang. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as incoherent excitement coursed through him, every note sending a ripple of electricity up his spine. And then the song was over and Erik remained perfectly still, feeling like the entire world had shifted beneath him. He could hardly breathe.

He watched as the girl returned to a table where a pretty blonde girl and an exceptionally clean-cut boy congratulated her. His fingers tapped restlessly on the table; he was unsure what to do with this rush of energy. He couldn't talk to her, of course. He'd never be able to teach her. But, even when he finally tore his eyes away from her and forced himself to go home, he couldn't get her voice out of his mind. He knew he had to do something.

This hadn't been the kind of disaster he had been expecting, but he suspected that that was exactly what it was.

In the days that followed, Erik found himself hanging around the music building at the university. It wasn't entirely unheard of for him to visit the building—following the activity there and offering guidance occasionally was a kind of hobby for him, he supposed, and when he felt particularly bored or restless, he might even watch a rehearsal there—but he wasn't exactly in the habit of lurking around, especially in the middle of the day when classes were in session. Fortunately, the old building had its share of tucked away rooms and disused halls, so he was at least able to wander discreetly.

He absolutely wasn't looking for the girl.

It would be absurd, he knew, to spend his days stalking the halls, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. The music department wasn't massive, but it was large enough to make a chance encounter with a specific person somewhat unlikely (and he was only assuming that she was a student there to begin with). Besides, even if he did somehow happen to come across her, what could he possibly hope to gain from such an encounter? So, no, he stubbornly insisted to himself. He definitely was not looking for her.

That didn't stop his breath from catching when he heard her. It was early in the morning as he had been meandering through the mazelike—and, at this hour, mostly deserted—halls of practice rooms. He'd paused when he noticed the light flick on in a room at the end of the hallway, and a moment later he'd heard her voice. He could have recognized it anywhere. After he'd left the Nightingale a few nights ago, Erik had attempted to convince himself that his memory was playing tricks on him—that her voice wasn't what he had initially thought and that his mind exaggerated it even more in the hours and days after. He'd been looking for something to hold his interest and had simply manufactured this after she'd caught his attention. But now, as he stood transfixed by the voice that he hadn't been able to shake from his thoughts, he knew he had not misremembered.

Wanting to listen more but feeling quite exposed where he was, Erik ducked into the practice room next to hers. If he'd been a student, it probably would have annoyed him that the walls were thin enough that he could hear her so clearly, but it suited him perfectly now. He let his eyes drift closed as he listened to her practice; her voice was incredibly soothing after days of seeking it out. She would truly be a force a nature if she just had some training, he thought when he heard her falter a little. She paused for a moment before starting again, and faltering again.

"Breathe after three," Erik said before he could stop himself. His mind immediately caught up, though, and his blood ran cold at the realization of what he had just done. He desperately hoped for her to continue, not having heard him, but there was only silence from the other side of the wall.

Hardly a second more passed before Erik was on his feet, bolting from the practice room. Around the corner, out of sight, he paused for a moment. He heard the girl come out of her room and glance into the now vacant one beside it. Another second passed in uncertain silence before she called out.

"Hello?"

Erik didn't dare to even breathe until he heard her return to her practice room. She quickly resumed her practice, and a small smile formed on his lips when she did as he'd suggested. The idea of teaching her, even realized in such a small way, was proving irresistible. He knew he couldn't do it like that, though—teaching her from another room would severely limit how he could help, and he doubted she'd be open to taking lessons from a disembodied voice. No, if he wanted to teach her, he'd have to do it face-to-face. The thought of it made his stomach churn. It could so easily go so wrong. There was a very good reason he'd made it a rule to avoid contact with people unless it was absolutely necessary.

But as he stood there listening to her, it didn't feel like he had a choice. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything to lose, was it? Perhaps if he just offered, she would turn him down and that would put an end to this crazy, reckless notion that he couldn't seem to shake. He wasn't sure if the possibility of her accepting filled him with more hope or fear, and he quickly pushed the idea away.

Finding a forgotten pen and notebook in one of the practice rooms, he quickly scrawled a note with a brief explanation and his phone number. Then, before he could change his mind, he slipped the paper under her door and disappeared down the hall, finally allowing himself to indulge the impulse to escape. In a daze, he rushed back to his car, his heart hammering. He climbed in and sank back into the leather seat, grateful for the privacy of the heavily tinted windows. Leaving her that note had been an impulsive decision, and he was already regretting it. It took a few moments for him to begin to calm down enough to think rationally again. It would be fine, he told himself. He'd never hear from her and this whole thing would amount to nothing. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Erik reached over to start the ignition.

His phone rang.

* * *

"I can't believe you're actually doing this," Meg said as the climbed out of her ancient car. "I wouldn't even have called the guy."

A cool breeze whipped Christine's dark curls across her face and she brushed them away, taking a deep breath of the morning air to calm her growing nerves. Meg was right—what was she thinking?

"He sounded normal on the phone," she defended halfheartedly.

"Ted Bundy seemed normal," Meg replied.

"I think you need to find some different podcasts to listen to. You're getting paranoid," Christine teased. "It'll be fine. I told you, we're just meeting for a trial lesson. Just see if we'll work well together. If it doesn't feel right, I can just leave and I'll never have to see him again."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Christine shook her head. "No it's fine. You have class. Besides, we're meeting in a public place with plenty of people around. Even if he does turn out to be a creep, I'll be fine."

Meg still looked skeptical. She'd had the same look on her face when Christine had returned to their apartment last week and told her about the incident in the practice rooms. When she'd turned and found the note that the man—Erik, he'd said his name was Erik—had slipped under the door, she'd been skeptical too. It was just so weird. And even if it hadn't been, she couldn't afford private lessons. She'd tried over and over to figure out some way to make it work, but she simply didn't have the money, especially not on top of her mounting student loans, and she'd resigned herself to do the best that she could without them. Still, she had to admit that she was curious. It couldn't hurt to call, right?

The man had sounded uncertain when he answered, and even more surprised when she introduced herself. But there was a musical quality to his voice that struck her; she recognized it even from the few words she'd heard spoken through the wall. He'd told her that he happened to hear her singing in the practice room and thought that she had a lot of potential. Christine had asked if he was faculty and he'd hesitated a little, saying that he was a kind of advisor to the department. She'd then explained that, while she appreciated the offer, she couldn't afford to pay a private teacher, thinking that that would be the end of it. But, much to her surprise, Erik had quickly offered not to charge anything.

"The opportunity to hone a voice like yours," he'd said, "would be compensation enough."

Christine knew that this should probably raise a red flag, but she couldn't deny that she was a little intrigued. After considering for a moment, she'd suggested they meet for a trial lesson, and Erik had readily agreed. She'd figured that if it didn't work out, then today would be the end of it, and at least she'd have given it a chance. And if it did go well and she had the opportunity to receive some serious instruction, that might be something to consider, right? Now that she was here, though, she wondered if this had all been a mistake.

"Hey," Meg called back as they entered the building and turned to go their separate ways. "If you need anything, text me. And you're right—I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Thanks," Christine smiled. "I'll let you know how it goes, okay?"

"Sounds good. See you tonight." With a wave, Meg turned and walked down the hall. Christine lingered for another second and then headed toward the practice rooms.

Erik had suggested that they meet in the practice room she'd been using last week, and as she made her way there, she focused on calming nerves. Most of the rooms this far down were empty, at least first thing in the morning like this. She'd chosen the room for its privacy, but now she wondered if she should have suggested a more central room for this first meeting. When she reached the short dead-end hallway, her room was the only one with a light on. She paused when she reached the door, peering in through the narrow window. Inside she could see the slim figure of a man, turned away from her as he adjusted a music stand. She knocked on the door timidly, pushing it open as she did.

"Erik?"

Christine wasn't sure what exactly she'd been expecting, but the man who faced her when she entered was definitely not it. She very nearly turned to leave, an apology about being in the wrong room forming on her lips, when the man spoke.

"Christine." It was his voice that made her stop—that distinct, melodic voice that was even more beautiful in person. Even tinged with uncertainty like it was, it sent a little shiver through her.

"Yes," she managed. The overhead lights glinted off the black mask that left only his chin and the thin line of his mouth exposed. Her eyes were immediately drawn to it, but she forced herself not to stare. The way his intense, golden eyes watched her without any hint of an expression unsettled her, and the imposing figure he cut—dressed all in black and standing a good foot taller than her—didn't help.

She could just go. That would probably be the most sensible thing to do. She could say that her phone had died and she had only come to tell him that she'd changed her mind, that she appreciated the offer but was just too busy for lessons. That was a polite enough excuse, wasn't it? But somehow, despite being a little intimidated, she didn't feel unsafe with this man. Maybe it had been the gentleness of his voice when he'd spoken—that slight tremor of nerves that mirrored her own. Maybe it was just her own reckless curiosity. She took a step forward and let the door swing shut behind her.

"Yes, I'm Christine," she finished. "It's nice to meet you." She held out a hand to him, and he eyed it for a moment before hesitantly taking it. His hand was cool and bony, the fingers long and elegant, and he pulled it from her grasp abruptly as if startled by the contact.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," he said, straightening and addressing her with surprising formality. "I have a number of pieces I would like you to run through so I can get a better feel for your strengths and weaknesses." He picked up a small stack of sheet music that had been sitting on the piano bench and held it out to her. "If you're ready to begin."

Christine smiled and accepted the music. "Absolutely."


	2. Chapter 2

Christine could hardly focus on anything for the rest of the day; her thoughts always drifted back to that morning in the practice room. The whole thing was so strange and… exhilarating. The hour that they had allotted for the lesson had gone by in what felt like no time at all. Erik may have started the lesson abruptly, but she'd become absorbed in it just as quickly. His knowledge of music had astounded her, easily surpassing even her best professors, and she could only assume that they'd barely scratched the surface during their brief time together. If not for the fact that she'd had to get to class, she probably would have lost track of time completely, wanting to get in just a little more work with Erik. She'd left motivated but distracted, ready for more work but unable push her thoughts beyond the lesson. It didn't occur to her until later in the day that she hadn't even gotten his last name.

The lesson had been intense and focused, but she hadn't found that off-putting at all—just the opposite, in fact. Erik was an exacting teacher, to be sure. She hadn't made it three bars into the first song before he had stopped her, instructing her to make a slight adjustment to her posture. A few notes later he had stopped her again with another small correction.

"I thought we were just going to run through a few pieces so you could see where I am," she had smiled, though the lightness of her tone had apparently been lost on him.

His only response had been, "Continue, then."

It had left her drained yet energized at the same time. Today was only meant to have been an experiment and Christine hadn't expected much from it—she'd figured that if she could at least see the promise of improvement through the lessons, she'd consider Erik's offer. But the improvement she'd made in just that hour had been greater than what she could accomplish with a week of practice on her own. When it was time for her to leave, she had lingered for a moment, waiting for Erik to bring up the lessons. He didn't say anything, though, and she spoke a little uneasily.

"I'd like to continue this," she'd told him. His golden eyes had flicked to her, and she'd added hastily, "If that's okay with you, of course. I think I would grow a lot with you as a teacher, and I would work hard." She had looked up to read his expression and was again a little taken aback by the blank black mask that met her instead.

Erik had regarded her for a moment before speaking. "I believe that you are remarkably talented and have incredible potential," he'd said, and Christine had blushed a little at the praise. "I would be more than happy to tutor you, and I will adhere to my original offer to give you lessons at no cost. But I do have one condition."

Christine had nodded, though her stomach had been in knots as she'd wondered what the condition might be. This _was_ feeling a little too good to be true.

"Under no circumstance will you attempt to see my face," Erik had said, maintaining his stiff demeanor as he spoke but not quite meeting her eyes. "I will always wear the mask, and you must not question it."

Christine's first reaction had been relief that this condition would not prevent her from being able to accept the lessons. It seemed like a fairly benign request, despite its eccentricity, and she had considered for only a second before replying. "That won't be a problem. I accept."

Erik had nodded, his lips briefly quirking into something like an unpracticed smile. "I am glad to hear that. I look forward to teaching you."

They'd arranged to meet in the mornings in this same practice room, and then Christine had been forced to rush off to class. Her mind was already filling with plans of songs that she wanted to work on and things she wanted to improve now that she had a private teacher. The prospect of learning so much from someone who seemed so knowledgeable was thrilling. Even so, the lesson today didn't quite seem real; or maybe it was her teacher who didn't seem real. The strange combination of awkwardness and imposing grace in his demeanor, the enticing musicality of his voice and his probably endless knowledge, the enigmatic black mask—none of it seemed like it should fit together to make up a real, living person. He seemed so surreal, and Christine couldn't quite tell whether it made her uneasy.

After an uneventful afternoon of swiping cards at the dining hall on campus, she made her way home, grateful that Meg would be working and she'd have the place to herself for a little while; she had a concerningly long list of things to work on given that the semester had only started two weeks ago, and she knew that once Meg came home she'd want to hear all about how the lesson had gone, and that would certainly lead to a longer conversation. As it was, between classes, work, and now lessons, she basically wouldn't have time to sleep for months. A productive evening definitely couldn't hurt.

No sooner had she arranged herself on the couch to start some assigned reading than her phone buzzed. She glanced down at it, smiling when she saw the text from Raoul asking how her day was. She typed a quick reply and turned back to her reading, though her attention kept slipping back to her phone as she waited for the screen to light up with another message. It had been a complete coincidence when she ran into Raoul on the first day of the semester. Her arms had been growing tired as she'd stood in line at the bookstore with her stack of textbooks, and one of them had slipped from her grasp. Suddenly Raoul was beside her, stooping to pick it up. When he'd looked up, her heart had skipped a beat as she recognized the little boy from years ago in his handsome features. After a second she could see his eyes light up with recognition, and he'd straightened and smiled.

"Christine Daae," he'd chuckled warmly.

"Raoul," she had smiled, suddenly shy as she accepted her book. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too. It's been a while."

"It has been," she'd agreed.

They were interrupted when Raoul was called up to the register, and Christine had watched him go a little anxiously, wondering if he would wait around to say anything else or if he would simply disappear into the sea of students coming and going. She'd lost sight of him briefly after she was called up to a different register, but her disappointment vanished when she found him waiting for her outside.

"Hey, sorry, I've kinda got to run," he'd said sheepishly when she approached him, "but I really am glad to bump into you. I wanted to see if you'd want to get coffee or something sometime and catch up."

"Sure," she'd replied, her smile growing. "That'd be great."

They had quickly exchanged numbers and agreed to meet the following afternoon. She'd been a little nervous on her way to meet him, but his easy charm had instantly made her feel comfortable. It was the same effect he'd had on her that summer at the beach—she'd been nearly solitary, with only her father for a friend, and then suddenly there was this boy who was all smiles and sunshine and who acted as though they'd been lifelong friends. Now, as they talked, they'd fallen into the same immediate bond. Raoul had told her about his family and about his plans to go to law school the following year, and Christine had talked about the Girys and how she was considering changing her major from vocal performance—she did alright and mostly enjoyed her classes, but she knew she wasn't excelling, and she found it difficult sometimes to pursue something so inextricably linked to her father.

Christine's throat had tightened when she told him that her father had died, and Raoul had reached across the table to cover her hand with his. He'd told her how very sorry he was and how much he'd admired her father, and their conversation had turned to memories of that summer. Christine had been seven and her father had somehow managed to procure them a little cottage right on the coast while he played in a local summer concert series. The few brief months they had spent there had been full of warm sunshine and cold saltwater and long, cool nights sitting on the coarse grass, looking up at the stars while her father made up little tunes on his violin or spun enchanting stories. Later, during the nights that she and her father had spent in cramped, noisy apartments, Christine would close her eyes and imagine that she could hear the crashing of waves, soothing her to sleep. She'd hardly call any of the time she'd had with her father _bad_, but things never seemed quite as good for them as they had been that summer.

She and Raoul had talked nearly every day after that afternoon. It had been Meg's idea to invite him to come to the Nightingale with them for the open mic night. Christine had cringed at the thought, but Meg had insisted.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Besides, you haven't actually spent any time with him since last week, and I know you want to. And then once he says yes, I could suddenly get sick and not be able to come—"

Christine had rolled her eyes. "I hope your classes pick up soon so you have better things to do than try to match-make."

Meg had laughed. "I'm just saying, it definitely sounds like he's interested, and I know you're into him. Maybe going out together like this would be a good way to ease into things."

"That's not the part that I dislike. You've convinced me to sing at this, so I'll do it—I need to figure out whether or not I want to change my major, and you're right that singing in front of an audience might help me decide. But if Raoul comes, I'll have to sing in front of him."

"You'll be singing in front of a roomful of people," Meg had pointed out. "What's one more?"

"Singing in front of someone you kind of know is a lot different than singing in front of a bunch of strangers. People you kind of know judge you."

"Well, then, it's a good thing you're amazing." Christine had given Meg a doubtful look, and Meg had held up her hands in defeat. "At least think about it, okay?"

"Fine."

It wasn't long after that conversation that Raoul had texted to ask if Christine had any plans for Friday. Christine had sighed and typed her reply quickly before she could change her mind: she had promised to do something with Meg, but she would love for Raoul to come if he wanted to. Raoul had agreed, and Christine had dreaded the satisfied smirk she'd receive when she told Meg.

In the end, though, Meg had been right, as she usually was. The three of them had had fun, and it _had_ been nice to spend time with Raoul.

Christine was pulled from her thoughts when her phone buzzed again—another message from Raoul.

_Are you doing anything tonight?_

She looked regretfully at the stack of books and notes beside her. _Buried under homework_, she replied.

_Already?_

_Unfortunately._

A few minutes passed without a reply, and Christine became absorbed in her reading. She jumped a little when a knock at the door broke her concentration, and she was surprised to find Raoul outside.

"Hey," he said with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I know you're busy."

"No, it's fine," Christine smiled. "Do you want to come in?"

"I'll only stay a minute, and then I'll let you go. I don't mean to interrupt," Raoul promised as he stepped inside. "I just, um, wanted to talk to you in person."

"Oh," Christine said, a little confused. "Sure. Was there something in particular that you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah, actually." Raoul shifted, glancing at her a little nervously. "I wanted to see if you might want to get dinner sometime. Like a date."

"Oh." Christine felt her cheeks heating, but that didn't stop her smile from growing. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Great," Raoul grinned. "Are you free at all this week?"

"I could make tomorrow night work," she replied.

"Perfect. I'll let you get back to your homework," Raoul said, nodding toward the stack of books and papers on the sofa. "But I'll see you tomorrow night."

"See you tomorrow night," Christine repeated, hoping that her smile wasn't too embarrassingly huge but unable to control it.

After Raoul left, she halfheartedly returned to her studying, though she would have much rather allowed her thoughts to wander to the following night. Meeting her childhood friend again all these years later… it almost seemed fated. Like something out of a storybook. She shook her head, laughing at herself a little. They'd only just planned their first date; she shouldn't get ahead of herself.

Christine had just been able to refocus when she was interrupted again by Meg's arrival home.

"Hey," she called over her shoulder when she heard Meg come in. "How was your day?"

Meg collapsed beside her on the couch with a sigh. "Long. I should try not to schedule such long shifts on Mondays. How was your day?"

"It was good." Christine smiled. "Raoul asked me out."

Meg immediately straightened at this, beaming victoriously. "Christine, that's so great!"

"Yeah," Christine laughed. "I'm excited. We're getting dinner tomorrow."

"I'm sure you'll have a great time. Didn't I tell you that he's into you?"

"You did," Christine confirmed with a smirk. Meg was almost always right about things like this—a fact she took no small amount of pride in.

"Oh, hey, how did your lesson go?" Meg asked suddenly. "I assume I would have heard earlier if it had been a total disaster."

"It actually went pretty well. This guy obviously knows a lot, and I think working with him could really help me. I could definitely feel a difference after just that hour. He did seem… a little eccentric."

"How so?"

"He, um, wore a mask the whole time?" Meg blinked, and Christine continued quickly. "I mean, he seemed perfectly fine otherwise. A little stiff, but not, like, a bad kind of weird."

"He wore a mask? Like a Halloween mask? Why?"

"Not really like a Halloween mask, just a plain mask. He didn't say why he was wearing it. He just asked me to promise that I'd never mention it."

"Wait, you agreed to keep meeting with him?" Meg asked skeptically.

Christine gave an uncertain shrug. Of course Meg was right to be skeptical, but she didn't quite know how to explain it—despite the oddness, she just didn't get a bad feeling from Erik. It was a gut feeling, to continue the lessons, and she figured that while she might regret making this choice later, she'd never stop wondering what might have been if she turned the offer down without giving it a chance.

"I don't know," she said. "I just felt okay with him. And he clearly knows a ton about music. If I feel like I've gotten better from just this one lesson, imagine what regular lessons might do. And maybe if I'm really working at it and improving… maybe I'll like singing again, like I used to."

Meg gave her a sympathetic smile. They had talked some about Christine changing her major, and Meg knew how conflicted she was. On the one hand, she hadn't exactly been happy the last couple of years. She'd been doing what she needed to do to get by, but the passion that had driven her to apply for the program in the first place had faded with her father's death. It wasn't easy pursuing something that reminded her so poignantly of someone she still grieved for. But on the other hand, music was a passion that she'd shared with her father. And as painful as it could be, Christine wasn't sure she wanted to sever that link, or to give up on what she had wanted to do for her entire life. She'd never wanted to do anything but sing; it had always felt like an essential part of her. Giving up on that now would feel like losing a piece of herself.

Was she really that crazy to want to give this a chance, however strange the situation might be?

"Alright," Meg said. "I hope it works out. But I reserve the right to be suspicious of this guy."

"Of course," Christine smiled.

"Just…" Meg hesitated a little. "Just be careful, okay? You're too trusting of people sometimes, you know. It seems fine now, but what if one day he decides you owe him something for teaching you? I'm glad he doesn't seem threatening or anything, but you don't know him. Just be a little wary."

"I know," Christine said. "And I will be. Promise."

"And as always, my offer to beat someone up for you still stands," Meg added with a smile, and Christine laughed a little.

"I appreciate that."

Meg soon disappeared into her room, and left alone again, Christine tried to turn her attention back to her textbook. Meg had distracted her, though, and when she wasn't able to refocus her thoughts to the pages in front of her, she sighed and pulled out her laptop. It was true that she tended to be a little too trusting, preferring to assume the best about people rather than questioning their motives. Meg's suspicion was perfectly reasonable, and talking about it now had planted that speck of doubt in her—despite the successful encounter today, Erik was a complete stranger, and she had just agreed to spend an hour a day alone with him. She had just opened her browser when she caught herself a laughed a little; her first impulse had been to search his name, but she doubted that just searching "Erik" would be of much help. She searched his phone number instead, and when that provided her with no information, she pulled up the music department website, searching through lists of faculty and donors and anything else she could think of. Still, her sleuthing yielded nothing—not the slightest suggestion that the person she was searching for actually existed. She resolved to learn a little more about him when they met the next morning.

Until then, she would just have to wait and wonder what she had gotten herself into.


	3. Chapter 3

Erik had scarcely known what to do with himself after that first lesson. He'd barely slept the night before, vainly trying to push down the anxiety that filled him at the thought of what the morning would bring. He had been second-guessing himself right up until (and including) the moment Christine had walked into the practice room. For the life of him, he couldn't remember why he'd thought it was a good idea to offer to give this girl lessons. There was no way he had been in his right mind at the time, and now that he'd had a chance to think things over, he could only see the situation as the undoubtedly catastrophic mistake it would be. He had no memory of the drive to the music building; the only possible explanation he could think of for why he was going at all was out of morbid curiosity for how disastrously the whole thing would go. When he'd heard the door to the practice room open, he'd had to fight the urge to bolt.

But then he'd turned and seen the small, timid girl in the doorway. Her eyes had widened for just a second as she took in the mask, but she had been quick to conceal her surprise. He'd felt a very slight twinge of sympathy, the thought of how frightening it must be for her to discover she'd agreed to meet with a strange masked man briefly breaking through his own anxiety. It had been just enough to make him pause. She'd stepped into the room and, though her nerves were still apparent, she'd given him a polite smile and held out her hand.

It was as though he'd been standing near the edge of the cliff, trying to peer over to see what lay below it. He'd moved just a little too close to the edge and lost his footing, and now he could feel himself slipping; the fall hadn't quite begun, but he knew it was coming, and there was nothing he could do about it. Bracing himself, he had reached to shake Christine's hand. He'd gotten himself into this situation and, for better or worse, it was happening—out of his control.

That grim thought was displaced as soon as they began the lesson. He was quickly consumed by her voice, determined to learn every facet, to know it like his own. Her lack of training was apparent, but she hadn't developed any habits that were _too_ bad, and he could fix the few she had developed. She needed more control, more conviction, more passion. He didn't doubt that he could teach these as well. And then she would be great. Perhaps she could even be somewhat of a legacy for him, achieving the success that he might have if not for his face. She could be his voice, his instrument, his greatest composition.

After she had left, it occurred to Erik that he hadn't once caught her staring. She hadn't appeared to shy away from him, as he had expected; Christine had behaved as though this had been a normal lesson with any ordinary teacher. And while he wouldn't exactly say that he had felt _comfortable_, it had seemed, for a while, that he'd forgotten. It was like he had existed outside of himself for a while. His face didn't matter, nor his past. All he was was her teacher, and during their lesson, nothing existed except the two of them—teacher and student. The realization that he'd felt anything other than crippling self-consciousness stunned him, but equally bewildering was Christine's ready agreement to be his pupil.

He had hesitated as she had gathered her things at the end of the lesson, nervous to ask whether she still wanted lessons. As unsure as he had been about the whole thing only an hour before, it would be quite a disappointment now to have her refuse. Much to his surprise, she spoke up before he did, and, despite the slight wariness that lingered in her eyes, she had quickly agreed to never ask about the mask. Perhaps it was simply because she had no other options, he reasoned—she couldn't afford to pay for lessons but clearly wanted to improve, and he was her opportunity to do just that. Even a small amount of desperation could drive people to make poor decisions.

He hadn't mentioned any of this to Nadir and, frankly, didn't plan to, at least for as long as possible. The logical part of his mind knew that Nadir was well meaning—after all they had gone through, Nadir had more than proven that he meant no ill will. But everything they had been through together also meant that Nadir had seen Erik at his worst. And while Erik couldn't exactly blame him for his watchfulness now, the man's tendency to pry could get quite irritating. At any rate, Erik wasn't sure how he would explain any of this even if he _did_ want to tell Nadir. It had all been one reckless, thoughtless decision after another, driven perhaps by boredom or self-destruction. And, despite one successful lesson, it could still amount to nothing. Just because it hadn't fallen apart immediately didn't mean it wouldn't eventually.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. Maybe he should just end it now. He wouldn't even have to meet with Christine in person again—he could call her and tell her that he was sorry, but something had come up and he wouldn't be able to teach her. The thought of that caused a pang of disappointment, though. Working with her today had been… he wasn't quite sure how to describe it. Exciting? Fulfilling? He was suddenly full of plans for what he would have her practice and what they should work on first; he felt, for the first time in years, like he wasn't just shuffling through the days, killing time until he finally reached the end of his life. This felt like he had something important to do, an actual purpose. It felt like something that could actually matter. Her voice was intoxicating and malleable and he knew that he couldn't _truly_ consider not continuing the lessons—not now, after he'd had a taste of what it would be like to train her. As foolish as he knew it was, he wanted to continue.

And so Erik found himself in the same practice room the following morning, waiting for Christine to arrive, his thoughts already deep in the day's lesson. Christine entered on time, looking a little more assured than she had the day before.

"Good morning," she smiled as she came in and dropped her backpack on the floor.

Erik nodded in reply, and when he didn't say anything, Christine went on.

"I'm excited to see what you have for me to work on. I also brought some music we're working on for choir. I thought that maybe we could look over it if we have time."

"That would be acceptable," Erik replied. "Shall we begin?"

"Oh, um, actually I was wondering if we could just talk for a minute first. You know, introduce ourselves." She blushed, a little unnerved by the scrutinizing golden eyes that watched her so carefully from beneath the blankness of the mask. "I know it sounds kind of silly. It's just that I realized yesterday that I hadn't even caught your last name or anything. Mine's Daae, by the way," she added with an embarrassed laugh.

"Mason," Erik replied, shifting uncomfortably on the piano bench. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask, he knew, but he hoped she wouldn't want to delve much further into personal information. Meeting in person like this seemed marginally okay as long as he maintained a certain level of anonymity.

Christine smiled a little. "Okay. So you were saying yesterday that you're an advisor for the department?"

"Informally."

She nodded, not quite sure what that meant but beginning to suspect that her new instructor was a fairly terse man. "Do you have any other students?" she ventured instead.

"No."

Christine waited for him to go on, but when he said nothing more, she spoke up again. "Well, I'm looking forward to working with you. I've never really had private lessons before. My dad taught me a little bit when I was young, but voice wasn't his specialty. He was a violinist."

Erik nodded and searched for something to say, relieved that at least the conversation had shifted away from him. "Was he well known?"

"No," she replied with a sad smile. "Maybe in some circles, but he definitely wasn't famous or anything. He was good enough to have been, though." She glanced down, clearing her throat to get rid of the lump forming there; the question had hit her harder than she would have expected. "We should probably get started."

This end to the conversation was more abrupt than Erik had anticipated, and though he was more than happy to take his place at the piano and delve into the lesson, it left him feeling a little uneasy. Had he said something wrong? He'd hardly spoken, but he still could have said something that upset her. Or perhaps it was the fact that he'd hardly spoken that had offended her. Groaning inwardly, he pushed the thoughts from his head. He hadn't wanted to talk in the first place—he should just be glad that Christine had dropped her attempt at conversation so quickly, whatever the reason.

These thoughts didn't trouble him for long, though. His attention was quickly diverted as he ran her through warm-ups, struck yet again by the extraordinary quality of her voice. Even after working with her yesterday, there was something about her voice that enthralled him. Each time he heard her sing, he only found himself more captivated. Beyond the thrill of training that voice, Erik was beginning to think that the lessons themselves might not be entirely unenjoyable. It seemed that Christine was a fast learner; he watched as she caught herself and paused to make the changes to her posture that he had instructed her to make the day before, and as she worked her way through the first exercises, she meticulously followed every directive he had given last time. She was quick to make any new adjustments he advised and listened attentively when he gave her directions. If she remained as dedicated to making progress as she appeared to be now, perhaps their lessons wouldn't be as frustrating as he had expected them to be.

Christine worked hard to remember everything that Erik had told her the day before. He'd been exacting, making small adjustments to fix issues that she hadn't even noticed, but the improvement was perceptible, and she was determined not to lose any of it. She wanted to prove that she could do this, though she wasn't quite sure if she was trying to prove this to Erik or to herself. Only a week ago she'd been seriously considering giving up singing, but if someone as skilled as Erik thought that teaching her was worth his time, maybe there was hope. Maybe she wouldn't have to give it up. Maybe if she could prove that she _was_ worth his time, she'd actually amount to something. Erik was just as demanding today, and Christine thought that with anyone else, she probably would have grown rather frustrated. But it was hard to be frustrated when each time he stopped her, he actually gave her helpful instruction. He never seemed annoyed by her ineptitude; he never talked down to her or spoke harshly. If Christine had had any lingering doubts about wanting to work with Erik, they quickly dissipated as he guided her now. She could put up with a bit of strangeness if it meant working with such a gifted tutor. Weren't all great artists a little eccentric?

And then he sang. It was only a few notes to correct a mistake she had made, but for a second Christine felt as though the air had been pulled from her lungs. When she didn't immediately respond to his instruction, Erik turned and glanced at her.

"Is everything alright?"

Christine nodded her head, still stunned. The voice that she'd just heard was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. As beautiful as his voice was when he spoke, it paled in comparison to when he sang. If she hadn't just heard it herself, she wouldn't have believed that such an incredible voice could even exist. It was almost otherworldly in its beauty.

She looked away, embarrassed by how taken aback she was. "You have a beautiful voice," she managed to say quietly.

Of course Erik knew this—it was one of his few points of pride—but something kept him from brushing aside the compliment like he might have expected to. There was such sincerity in how Christine had spoken. No attempt at flattery, no falseness. Just genuine appreciation. He felt his face grow warm beneath the mask.

"Thank you," he replied, not quite looking at her.

They resumed the lesson, but when Christine sang again, she felt a prickle of self-consciousness. It had been intimidating enough to know what an extensive knowledge of music Erik appeared to have, but knowing that he possessed such a remarkable voice as well…. If she had wondered before what he saw in her that made him think she was worth his time, she found herself even more confused now. But he continued to instruct her with the same patience that he had before, and after a little while she was too focused on the lesson to be self-conscious. That voice remained in her head, though, like a dream that she couldn't quite shake.

Eventually they turned to her choir music—for the most part she had been able to work through it on her own, but there were a few difficult parts, and she figured some extra instruction couldn't hurt.

"Oh, um," she hesitated when he corrected her on one of the pieces. "Our teacher actually told us to do it that way."

"Your teacher is an idiot," Erik replied with such seriousness and severity that Christine couldn't help but crack a smile. When he just kept looking at her, she let out a small, awkward laugh.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm sure you're right. I just wasn't expecting you to say that with so much conviction."

Erik glanced away. "Forgive me if I was too… intense."

"No, it's fine," Christine insisted. "Your way makes much more sense. It's just that we went over this part in rehearsal the other day and he was really insistent that we do it like he wanted us to."

Erik nodded, still not quite looking at her. "Follow your teacher's instructions, then. But you should know the correct way to do this as well."

They ran through the passage again and Christine was careful to follow Erik's instructions, glancing to him for confirmation that she'd done it correctly and being met with a nod of approval. The lesson ended not long after, and as she was packing away her things, she glanced up to see him beginning to say something. He hesitated when she met his eyes and he quickly looked away, but after a second he spoke.

"I… apologize if I am too severe sometimes. I have a low tolerance for things that I consider incompetence. It is a fault I am well aware of, but I have not been successful in taming it."

Christine bit her lip, not exactly comforted by the declaration from her new teacher. "Oh. That's okay—I didn't think you were too severe earlier. I do hope, though, that _I _don't frustrate you too much," she said carefully.

"Oh, no, you—" Erik stammered a little, realizing how she must have interpreted his words. "I did not mean to suggest that _you_ are a source of frustration."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Christine replied with a small, nervous laugh.

"Do you… feel that I have been too severe to you?"

"No, not at all," she said quickly. "No, your comments are always very helpful."

"Good." They stood in silence for a moment, and when Christine glanced at him again, his eyes darted from her and moved across the room as if he wasn't sure where to look.

"I should get going," she said after a couple of seconds had passed.

"Of course," Erik replied quickly.

Gathering the rest of her things, Christine paused in the doorway to look back at him, offering a small smile over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

She heard him mutter a reply as she left, and she grimaced a little, hoping that she hadn't somehow offended him. Truly talented people were allowed their eccentricities, she supposed, but Erik was certainly a bit… stiffer than anyone she'd worked with before. The fact that she couldn't see his expression did nothing to help her read him, and while the day before he'd seemed imposing and authoritative, if a bit awkward, the discomfort she'd just seen left her a little unsure of that impression. It was like he was caught unprepared if something didn't go exactly the way he expected it to. Maybe it was just because they hardly knew each other—sometimes it took a little while for your interactions with someone new to lose that initial uncertain awkwardness. She could hope that that was the case, at least. But it didn't really matter, she reminded herself. She didn't agree to lessons for the social component. This was her future that was at stake, and that wasn't something to take lightly. As long as they could work together—as long as she could learn from him—that was all she needed.

That afternoon she found herself at choir rehearsal going over the song that she'd taken to her lesson—the song now marked with two sets of notes—when her professor announced that he wanted to amend his instructions from the other day. Christine looked over the passage in question with some surprise, finding that the new instructions matched Erik's exactly. There were a few confused looks exchanged around her at the sudden change of heart after his previous insistence, but he offered no explanation for the change, simply running them through the new instructions. It was just a coincidence, she knew. Of course Erik hadn't contacted her professor after their lesson this morning to convince him to change his directions. Still, though, she couldn't help but smile a little in amusement as she imagined the professor receiving a strangely specific suggestion from the department advisor.


	4. Chapter 4

The Nightingale was surprisingly quiet when Christine entered. She could see a few people scattered across the rooms, but their hushed conversations were hardly the dull roar of chatter that usually greeted her when she came to the café for an afternoon of studying. She paused to leave her jacket at an empty table out of habit, even though there was really no need to claim one given how many were unoccupied, before heading over to the counter to order.

There was only one person behind the counter today instead of the usual small staff of students—an older Middle Eastern man she'd often seen around the place but had never seen at the register. She'd assumed he was the manager, perhaps even the owner. He looked around middle age and normally wore a stoic expression as he observed the activity in the café from a distance, but he gave her a kind smile now as she approached the counter. She returned the smile and placed her order before stepping back from the counter and watching as he prepared her drink.

"It's quiet in here this afternoon," she commented.

"I'm not complaining—I'm understaffed today," the man replied amiably.

"I guess it works out, then."

"It should be nice for studying. It gets so loud in here sometimes I don't know how you all can focus."

"Yeah, this is perfect," Christine said. "Just a little background noise but not enough to be distracting. Exactly what I need right now."

"Busy?"

She laughed a little. "Very."

A second later the man reached across the counter to hand her the drink. "Good luck with your studying," he told her, and she thanked him and returned to her table.

Pulling out a stack of notes and her laptop, she set to work, doing her best to focus all her attention on the task at hand. The essay she'd been assigned was daunting, made even more so by the stack of notes she had piled next to her laptop to reference as she wrote, and her work schedule didn't allow her much time to work on it before the due date. She needed to do as much as she could today, and she had a mountain of other tasks to get to if she had enough time left. The week wasn't even half over and she was already feeling worn down. But she had promised herself a relaxing evening if she made good progress on this essay, and the goal was enough to motivate her for now. She was so wrapped up writing that she almost didn't notice when Meg sat down across from her a few minutes later.

"Hey," she said, glancing up.

"I think we had the same idea," Meg laughed. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Christine pretended to debate for a moment. "I guess that's okay."

Meg rolled her eyes, arranging her own things on the table. "What are you working on today?"

"Theory paper. You?"

"Studying for an astronomy exam. Turns out there's a lot of math involved. I just wanted to learn about space."

"I told you that you should have taken zoology instead," Christine said, and Meg heaved a dramatic sigh.

"I should have listened to you. I also shouldn't have waited so long to fill my science requirement."

"You'll get through it."

"Hopefully," Meg said doubtfully, and Christine smiled a little, returning her attention to her paper.

She hadn't met Meg until halfway through their junior year of high school. Christine was new to the school that semester. They had been taking the same beginning piano class and had quickly bonded over their love of music. Even in the early days of their friendship, Meg had felt like more of a sister than a friend—the relationship had immediately felt easy and comfortable, like they had known each other their whole lives. Christine had never felt like she'd even lived in one place long enough to develop more than a superficial friendship, but the closeness she felt with Meg had been instant.

It had been late in the summer before senior year when Christine's father had been diagnosed with cancer, and though the outlook had been grim from the start, the few months that followed had been harder than anyone had expected. It had been both painfully long and agonizingly brief, and it would have been impossible to get through if Meg and her mother hadn't been there. They were there through all of it, helping her and her father however they could.

Meg had stayed by her side and held her hand through the entire funeral.

Christine had been unable to imagine being away from the Girys after they took her in, and so when both she and Meg were accepted into a university that was only two hours from home, the decision to go had been an easy one. The two of them had shared a dorm room their first year, staying up too late talking about boys in the adjacent hall and commiserating through bouts of homesickness. It had never crossed either of their minds to consider living with anyone else when it was time to make housing arrangements for their second year, and they had happily inhabited their little apartment since.

They spent the rest of the afternoon ensconced at their table at the Nightingale, only leaving when Christine closed her laptop with a sigh, saying that she couldn't think of a single word more to write. Meg was happy enough to take a break from studying, so they packed up and piled into Meg's car. They had just arrived back at the apartment when Christine's phone rang.

"Hey," she answered when she saw Raoul's name appear on the screen.

"Hey," he replied. "How was you day?"

"It was fine. Pretty normal. How was yours?"

"Good. Listen, do you want to go out tonight?"

Christine hesitated, thinking of the hot shower and sweatpants she'd been looking forward to. "Tonight? I don't know."

"Okay, well, what about tomorrow night?" Raoul asked.

"I could do tomorrow night. Wait," Christine continued quickly. "No, I can't. I traded for an evening shift at the dining hall. Are you free the night after?"

"I have a networking thing then. C'mon, let's just go out tonight," Raoul insisted. "Just dinner, and maybe we can swing by a little get-together that a friend of mine is having. It'll be fun."

"Raoul—"

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Christine."

"Alright," she relented after a moment. "I literally just walked in the door, though. Give me half an hour?"

"Sure. I'll pick you up then."

"See you then." Christine hung up and caught Meg watching her. "What?"

"Nothing," Meg replied. "You just don't seem too excited, that's all."

"I'm excited to spend time with Raoul," Christine said. "I'm just not really in the mood to go out tonight." Meg nodded but made no comment, and Christine crossed her arms. "I know you're thinking something. Just tell me what it is."

"I think," Meg said carefully, "that it was a little rude of him to pressure you into going out when you didn't want to."

"He didn't pressure me. He wanted to go out, and since it'll be a few days before we can see each other again, I decided to go."

Meg shrugged. "Alright. Enjoy your date."

Christine turned with a small sigh and disappeared into her bedroom to get ready for the evening. Meg's tendency to pry was not something that she found wholly bothersome—she knew that Meg was just looking out for her. Meg had always been more outspoken than she was, and Christine knew she sometimes felt the need to intercede on her behalf. Right after her father died, Meg had become her protector. And she was grateful for that. There had been plenty of times when she'd needed Meg to push her a little. As often happened, after a few minutes of reflection, Christine had to admit that Meg had a point. Maybe she did need to speak up for her own interests a little more.

But it was silly to be hesitant about this, wasn't it? She should be excited to have the chance to spend some time with Raoul. She _was_ excited. They had seen each other often since their first date a couple of weeks before, and the new relationship had been going well. Raoul was sweet and attentive. It felt so easy and familiar to be with the sunny boy from her childhood. There was something about him that lit up the room around him—something about his easy self-assurance and charm that put everyone around him just as much at ease as he was. He was affable and acted as though he was friends with everyone he spoke with, and it was so natural to like him that Christine imagined even a complete stranger might, for a moment, become convinced that they were friends. How could she _not_ look forward to spending time with him? She just needed to muster a little more energy, that was all. Her quiet night in could wait; the alternative was much better.

Raoul arrived to pick her up half an hour later on the dot, giving her a quick kiss and tugging playfully at her hands. "Let's go before I starve to death," he grinned, and Christine laughed and let him lead her out to his car. "You look nice, by the way."

"Thank you," she said, pausing for a second to wait for him to climb into the car. "And sorry about my schedule. This course load is a lot rougher than I expected it to be, and scheduling at the dining hall can be pretty inconsistent, so I kind of have to take shifts whenever I can get them."

"That's okay," Raoul replied. "And hey, at least you don't have law school applications looming over you. Things could be worse."

"Yeah, I guess they could be."

The drive to the restaurant was short but quiet, and Christine hummed along to the radio absent-mindedly as she watched the town roll by them. When she glanced over and caught Raoul smiling at her, a blush rose to her cheeks, but he only chuckled a little before returning his attention to the road.

The restaurant was just starting to get busy when they arrived, and it was a few minutes before they could be seated. The dull noise of the conversations around them in the small waiting area was just loud enough that they would have to raise their voices to be heard and was occasionally amplified by cheers and groans for whatever game was being shown on the TVs above the bar. It was enough to discourage conversation beyond a few words here and there, and it was only a little better once they were seated.

"So how has your week been going?" Raoul asked after they had settled into their seats. "It seems like you have a lot on your plate right now."

"Yeah, this semester is going get pretty hectic," Christine said with a small laugh. "It's already getting there, really. But I feel like I've found a decent routine, and things are going well. At least I mostly like my classes."

"You could always cut back on something if it gets to be too much," Raoul suggested, but she smiled and shook her head.

"A couple of the credits I need are only offered this semester, and of course they're also prerequisites for classes I need to take next year. And if I take fewer shifts at the dining hall, I won't be able to afford food. Ironically."

"What about your voice lessons, then?" he said. "That's, what, and hour every morning? Maybe you could wait and pick them up again next semester."

Christine took a sip of her water, putting off answering for a second. Raoul was only trying to help, and of course it was a reasonable suggestion—and something that had crossed her mind—but she had quickly decided that it was out of the question. It hadn't even been three weeks since the lessons had started, and even though she had expected to improve greatly under Erik's instruction, her progress had surpassed even her most optimistic expectations. And it wasn't just technical the improvement. The progress she was making excited her. She woke up in the mornings feeling energized and eager for that day's lesson; she was pouring more and more of herself into her practice, and her voice was beginning to show it. There was no way she could give up the lessons now, not after seeing the difference they could make.

"I can't drop the lessons," she said gently. "They're too important, especially since I'm thinking I want to stay in the music program. But it's fine. Like I said, I'm getting into a routine. I can manage just fine. I think I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, you know? It's easy when you're tired and hungry."

"Then it's a good thing we're at a restaurant," Raoul laughed half-heartedly before adding, with some hesitation, "I'm just a little concerned about how we're going to manage to see each other. Our schedules are already starting to clash, and things are only going to get busier for both of us."

Christine smiled sympathetically, reaching across the table to take his hand. She was about to speak when a particularly loud cheer erupted around them, and just as it faded their waitress appeared to take their orders. When she left again, Christine laughed a little.

"I'm not sure this is quite the right place for a conversation like this," she said lightly. "I understand, Raoul. I worry about that too. But we can manage. We'll just need to learn to work around it. We'll be deliberate about setting aside time for us, even if that just means that we study together or something. The semester will be over before we know it, then, and we can hope that next semester will be a little less crazy."

"Yeah," Raoul said, not sounding wholly convinced. "It'll be fine."

The meal was pleasant enough—Christine was certainly happy to see Raoul, especially knowing that he would soon be completely buried under practice tests and application essays, and she did try to rally herself to enjoy the evening more—but she was worn out and couldn't quite muster the energy she wanted. She tried to protest when Raoul suggested they check out the party that a friend of a friend was throwing for some occasion that wasn't particularly clear to her, but he was so enthusiastic about it that he hardly seemed to hear her weak objection. She gave in rather easily, deciding she'd rather not risk turning this into an argument or hurting his feelings, especially when he'd just expressed that he was worried about them not having enough time together. And so she found herself climbing back into Raoul's car, listening to him explain who would be there and which law schools everyone was applying to and how his family knew their families.

The party was in full swing when they entered, finding it bigger and rowdier than either of them had expected. Christine caught Raoul's gaze and he shrugged, apparently not particularly surprised or dissuaded. He led her across the spacious loft apartment to get them each a beer, pausing several times along the way to talk to someone. She smiled and chatted politely each time Raoul introduced her, but the night was wearing away at her by the minute. By the time they had crossed the room, they must have spoken to at least half the people there, including a drawn out conversation about the specifics of a law program that Christine had been unable to follow from the start.

"This place is great, isn't it?" Raoul asked once there was a break in the stream of conversations, needing to raise his voice to be heard over the music and chatter.

Christine nodded, halfheartedly sipping her lukewarm beer. "Yeah, it is."

Raoul frowned. "Is something wrong? You don't seem very enthusiastic."

She hesitated. "I… I'm not," she sighed. "I'm sorry, Raoul, I'm just exhausted and not really up to a night out like this."

Raoul's face fell a little. "Let's talk somewhere quieter," he suggested, taking her arm gently and guiding her out onto a small patio. "Are you sure there's not something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said. "It's just what I told you: I'm tired and not feeling like a night out."

"You could have told me earlier, Christine."

She shrugged helplessly. "I tried, Raoul, but you were so insistent and excited and I didn't want to disappoint you. And I wanted to spend time with you, especially since things are getting so busy and it might be hard to see much of each other for a little while."

Raoul sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So, what, even after all that talk about how we just have to set aside time for each other, you still don't want to be here?"

"Raoul, don't be angry," Christine said softly.

"I'm not—" he snapped, stopping for a moment before continuing more gently. "I'm not angry. I'm just a little frustrated."

Christine looked down, saying nothing. They stood for a long moment before Raoul spoke again.

"Come on," he said gently, though the disappointment was clear in his voice. "I'll take you home."

The car ride back to the apartment felt longer than it actually was. Christine knew that it was only a small argument—if even that—but she could still feel some tension between them and it left her uneasy. From time to time she would glance at Raoul, trying to read glimpses of his expression as they passed under streetlights, but his face was impassive, his gaze remaining stoically on the road ahead of them. When they finally pulled up in front of the apartment building, she turned to him with an apologetic smile.

"I really am sorry about tonight," she told him. "We can still hang out, though. Why don't you come in for a while? We can watch a movie or something."

"That's okay," Raoul said, his tone not displeased but not entirely convincing. "I shouldn't have pushed you into going out in the first place. Go relax. We can talk in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "It's just one night," he said. "It's not a big deal."

"Okay." She leaned over to give him a quick kiss before opening her door and starting to climb out, pausing briefly and turning back to him. "Talk to you tomorrow."

He gave her a small smile. "Talk to you tomorrow."

With that Christine closed the car door and heading into the building, pausing to wave to Raoul before she went inside. The reflection of the streetlights glared off the windows and she couldn't see if he waved back.


	5. Chapter 5

It started out with small things—so small that Erik didn't even notice at first. He would be playing or composing, and he would think of something that he wanted to go over with Christine at their next lesson, some technique for her to try or another note to give her on something they'd discussed. That much didn't concern him. He was her teacher and he wanted to see her do her best. There was nothing wrong with thinking about their lessons throughout the day. But the thoughts began to occur more frequently, and then they weren't just about lessons. He would catch himself wondering if she liked something and quickly remind himself that it didn't matter; he shouldn't be concerned about anything beyond their lessons. He once caught himself wondering if he should find more excuses to sing during their lessons. She'd complimented his voice before—would she be impressed if he sang more? Would it make her think more highly of him? Not that it mattered, of course. If he was a little concerned about what she thought of him, it was only because he sought her respect as her teacher.

After a few weeks he found himself mentally cataloging all the little facts that had come out during lessons. She lived with her best friend. Her favorite subject other than music was English—so much so that she was taking an extra literature class even though she had already fulfilled the requirement. She had a sweet tooth and a weakness for sugary coffee confections, even though she generally avoided coffee for the sake of her voice. She'd mentioned a boyfriend in passing once (something about this fact irked Erik, but he refused to think about why). Each little bit of information created a fuller picture of her, and for some reason he wanted to know more. Perhaps it was just that it had been quite a while since he'd had regular interaction with anyone besides Nadir. Maybe he was just bored and learning about someone else's life was interesting. It didn't feel like a clinical interest, though, and the fact that he couldn't pinpoint what it _did_ feel like bothered him. Even so, he was careful to remember everything he learned about her, each new bit of information like an artifact to be studied and recorded.

One day he found himself picturing her smile. The smile she always greeted him with had been polite at first, but it had grown a little easier now, a little bigger, like she was actually glad to see him. Her smile held only sunshine and sincerity, and he had started to find that he looked forward to seeing it. It stuck in his mind now, and even as he tried to return his attention to the work in front of him, his thoughts kept drifting back to her—the way her dark eyes lit up as if her smile alone couldn't contain all the light in her, the way her lips quirked when she was trying not to smile but couldn't quite stop herself, the pleasant rush of warmth that swept through him when he saw her.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching for his laptop and typing her name into the search engine. It was easy to find her social media, and though the accounts were private, there was her face, beaming back at him. The photo didn't quite capture the brilliance of her smile in person, but Erik supposed it was as close as a photo could get. It was too static, and Christine was so lively and animated. But it did give him the opportunity to study her more closely than he normally could. He ran his eyes over the curve of her cheek, memorizing the lines of her face, feeling something catch in his chest as he looked into her eyes.

And then his mind caught up with him and he slammed his laptop shut, standing abruptly and stalking out of the room. What was he doing? He would have to be completely insane to allow himself to feel even the slightest attachment to her; just the fact that their lessons weren't unpleasant didn't sit particularly well with him. It would make much more sense for him to be constantly on-edge around her, just waiting for something to go wrong. He didn't exactly have a good track record when it came to interacting with people, and there was no reason to think that things would be any different now. It had barely been a month since they'd started their lessons. Just because disaster hadn't struck yet didn't mean that it wouldn't.

Every relationship he had ever had with another human had been a disaster. Even with Nadir—the one person who had ever stuck with him—things were often still difficult and tense during relatively good times. Nadir had suffered through enough that any other person would have been driven away long ago. Even now, after everything they had been through together, Erik knew that he didn't make friendship an easy thing. Nadir could be overbearing at times, sure; he kept a closer eye on Erik than Erik would have liked, and he had a habit of trying to interfere. But Erik countered this with coolness and annoyance, even when he knew Nadir meant well, even when he knew he didn't deserve it. He didn't fully understand why Nadir continued to put up with him. And that was the only successful human relationship he'd ever had, if success could be defined simply as the continued existence of the relationship. Everything else had either been bad from the start or had gone up in flames very quickly.

There was something about Christine that felt different, though. Erik had expected their lessons to continue much like the first one: formal and rigid, with that little bit of discomfort between them preventing their interaction from changing. But, much to his surprise, that discomfort had started to fade. Christine, to her credit, never seemed particularly uncomfortable—if she ever was, she hid it well. True to her word, she never mentioned the mask, but she also didn't seem to acknowledge it at all. She never treated him any differently or acted like he was anyone but an ordinary teacher. If he didn't know better, he could almost imagine that she didn't even notice the mask anymore.

Even beyond that, there was just something about her that kept him from being completely on-edge—some aura of softness around her that gave her a kind of innate trustworthiness. He had felt it even during that first lesson, and it had only become more pronounced since then. Of course it wasn't enough to completely put him at ease. There were still moments when he was painfully aware of himself, of his own awkwardness and uncertainty. What surprised him was that those moments didn't make up the entirety of every lesson. They didn't even make up _most_ of a lesson. Most of the time, he could forget about himself and just be her teacher. It was like there was an unspoken understanding between them, some shared way of thinking. She followed his instructions closely, she worked hard, she asked all the right questions. She always seemed to understand what he was trying to convey to her. There was just something about it that clicked. He couldn't quite explain what it was that worked, but he knew it did. It made teaching her feel easy, natural.

Still, he reminded himself, that was no reason for him to hope that this would actually work in the long run. Music may have created some kind of tenuous link between him and Christine, but he would be a fool to expect it to last long. Realistically, the best-case scenario was that she would simply tire of his presence in her life and move on. What could he possibly hope for beyond that, anyway? In less than two years she would be done with school and, if he was successful with her, she would leave to pursue her career. Their lessons had an end date even if everything went as well as they possibly could, even if he didn't manage to ruin things before then—just another reason not to let himself grow attached to her. Her presence in his life was only temporary. Really, he reminded himself, this was nothing more than a diversion for him. It was just something to fill the time, to prevent the monotony that he had settled into from driving him insane. Hopefully all would go well and he would be pleased with the result, but at the end of the day, it was just a bit of amusement.

It was with that in mind that Erik returned to their practice room the next day. He had only been there for a few minutes when he glanced up at the sound of the door opening, and then there was Christine, greeting him with that sunny smile as easily and naturally as if he had been anyone other than himself. And very much in spite of himself, he found the edges of his own mouth quirking in response—not quite a smile, but probably as close to one as he had ever come without thinking about it.

"Good morning, Erik," she said cheerily, sliding her backpack off her shoulders and pulling out her music.

"Good morning," Erik replied quietly. He was suddenly aware of how intently he was watching her and glanced away, but then quickly felt that it was weirder to be _avoiding_ looking at her and cautiously turned his gaze back. She didn't seem to notice, at least. Or perhaps she did notice and was just being polite.

"How are you?" she asked as she arranged her music on the stand, and even though he knew it was only small talk—she wasn't _truly_ interested in how he was, it was just a question that came automatically—he couldn't help but be a little pleased that she would even bother with it.

"Fine," he told her. "And you?"

"Good," she said. He didn't think she had ever replied that she was anything less than "good." "It's been a busy week, but a good kind of busy, you know?"

He considered asking her more but decided against it, doubting that she really wanted to have a conversation with him about her personal life. Instead he began their lesson without further preamble, relieved to be able to rely on the structure of it. _This_, at least—being her teacher—was something he had come to understand. There was still that prickle of something else in the back of his mind, though. There was still that craving, however slight and ridiculous it was, for something more. Some delusional part of him wanted to talk to her more, to move a little further beyond their current boundaries, to grow more comfortable with her. He wasn't quite ready to admit that he liked her in any way, but he didn't dislike her, didn't really even _want_ to dislike her. And despite the instinct telling him that that was bad, that he should put an end to all of this right now, he couldn't quite bring himself to.

They were nearing the end of the lesson when Erik paused and turned on the piano bench to face Christine, who met his gaze expectantly.

"I was thinking," he began, pushing down a wave of self-consciousness, "if it is amenable to you, of course, that it would be beneficial to work on duets from time to time. Practicing performing with others is just as important a skill as anything else."

"Sure, I think that sounds good," Christine said easily. "Though I have to admit, I'm a little intimidated to sing with you," she added with a small laugh.

"Why would you be intimidated?" he asked, a little wary of the answer.

Her smile turned embarrassed and she ran a hand through her hair. "It's just… I mean, you're so good."

Erik felt his face grow warm and was grateful for the mask. "You are plenty good yourself."

She glanced away, and for a second he feared that he had done something wrong, but then she met his eyes again and nodded. "Okay. I'm up for it if you think it'll be helpful."

"Very good." Erik reached for his bag and pulled out a stack of sheet music, handing it to Christine. "You may choose any piece you wish."

She rifled through the stack for a moment, flipping through the music thoughtfully before pulling out a few sheets. "I'm not super familiar with this one, but I remember liking it," she said as she held the music out for Erik. He glanced at it and motioned for her to keep it.

"In that case, you will also get to practice sight-reading," he replied.

"Should I find something that I know better?" she asked, her brow furrowing a little as she glanced over the sheets.

"No, no," he assured her. "This will be perfectly fine."

Christine nodded but still looked a little uncertain. He gave her another moment to look through the music, and when she looked back at him and gave him another slight nod, he turned back to the piano.

The beginning of the song was Erik's alone, and Christine held her breath as he began. She'd heard him sing a few notes here and there, but hearing him _really_ sing now was something else. Even as she listened to him, she couldn't find the words to adequately describe his voice. It was so rich and full and fine and he sang expertly, every note perfect and every phrase measured and thoughtful. The thought of singing with him had been intimidating to begin with; if he had ever been harsh toward her, she would surely be frozen in fear now. But he'd never been harsh, had never been critical without offering a correction, and she could only hope that that patience would extend to this moment, because as soon as she began to sing with him, her flaws would be more obvious than ever.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she hurried to find her place in the music, knowing that her entrance was approaching. She took a breath to steady herself and, forcing herself to narrow her focus to the music, sang her first notes with as much sureness as she could muster.

Erik's lips twitched when she began to sing. Her lack of confidence was unfounded—while there was room for improvement, she could certainly hold her own. She stumbled a little in one or two places, but she seemed to grow more certain as she sang, losing her nerves in the lushness of the song.

"_We could make believe I love you_…"

He felt an odd twinge at these words but quickly brushed off the thought, attributing it to the beauty of her voice and not the words themselves. And then their voices joined and he couldn't think about anything but the rush of singing with her.

That rush caught Christine off guard and she stumbled again, losing her place in the music. Erik stopped playing and glanced back at her, and she let out a small, embarrassed laugh.

"Sorry."

Erik shook his head. "No need to be sorry. You were doing well."

She smiled a little at this. "Thank you."

He instructed her where to pick the song up again, and she paused for a second to refocus. Singing with him had felt… well, she wasn't quite sure what it had been. It had taken her breath away. There had been an intensity to it, a thrill that she hadn't been expecting, but it wasn't bad. They began again a few bars before he joined her, and when his part came in again she was ready, keeping her focus on the notes she was reading. As self-conscious as she had expected to feel singing with him, after a few moments she found that she felt less uncomfortably aware of her own voice. There was something that felt natural about this, and that feeling put her a little more at ease, allowed her to lose herself in the music.

Erik felt electrically aware of her—of every note she sang, every breath she took, every slight movement and pause. He tried to make note of everything in his head, knowing that she would be expecting feedback when they were finished, but he was finding it difficult to focus the analytical side of his mind. It was much easier to let himself be absorbed in her voice, in the sound of their voices together. As untrained as she was, they were a good match. And with the lushness of the melody and the romance of the lyrics, he was finding himself far more wrapped up than he knew he should have been.

When they reached the end of the song, he took a deep breath, letting his head clear for a second before turning to her. "That was very good," he told her. "There are a few places I'd like to go over again, but first, is there anything that stands out to you?"

Christine shook her head, looking over the music again—she hoped that she wouldn't have to admit that she'd forgotten the need to be engaged with the music in that way, to be watching for parts that she needed to practice and things that she should do better. This was a lesson, after all, and of course they were working on this for the sake of her learning. "Nothing really sticks out right now, but I'm sure I'll remember something if we start working through it," she said.

This seemed agreeable to Erik, and for a while they worked through the song bit by bit, focusing mostly on her part. Then, in no time, it was time for Christine to leave for class and she reluctantly packed away her music.

"I liked working on the duet today," she said as she zipped up her backpack, and Erik nodded.

"I am glad that you found it useful. Perhaps we can continue to try duets from time to time." He tried to prevent the note of hopefulness from entering his voice, though he reasoned that there was nothing wrong with him enjoying it as well. Surely, it was good for a teacher to find at least some enjoyment working with a student.

"I'd like that. If you think it's beneficial, of course. I do feel like I learned from it." She gave him a smile and a small wave. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow." Erik remained in the practice room for a moment after she left, doing his best to rationalize away that shy, excited flutter he'd felt when she'd smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning was cool and gray clouds hung low and thick in the sky, promising rain and keeping the morning darker than it should have been. Christine woke groggily, her mind already buzzing with plans for the week: when she would have time to catch up on reading for class, if there was any way she could squeeze in an extra shift at the dining hall. By the time she was half dressed, her thoughts had shifted from her schedule to her lessons. Erik had her working on difficult music, and had her teacher been any less skilled, she doubted she'd be able to get through it at all. She played through the last few lessons in her mind, determine to memorize every instruction he'd given her so he wouldn't have to correct every little thing again. She'd been struck more than once with the worry that she just wasn't good enough or that she wasn't making enough progress to please him. But Erik had always known what he was doing so far, so she just had to trust that he didn't expect too much from her.

The date didn't even occur to her until she opened her bedroom door to find Meg waiting for her in the kitchen, piling chocolate chip pancakes onto a plate.

"Happy birthday!" Meg beamed, and Christine laughed.

"Did Meg Giry actually get up early to make breakfast?"

"Of course!" Meg set the plate down on their worn kitchen table and pulled out one of the chairs for Christine. "It's not every day that my best friend turns twenty-one."

"Thanks for this," Christine smiled, sitting down and taking a bite of her breakfast. "These are amazing."

"Made them just like Mom does," Meg said proudly, cutting into the plate she'd set aside for herself. "I even called her last night to make sure I remembered how to make them right, and then she laughed at me for not knowing how to make pancakes."

"I'm sorry for the struggle I've put you through," Christine replied gravely, and Meg laughed.

"Mom also said to wish you a happy birthday for her, and to tell you again she's sorry she can't make it up here for dinner tonight. But she will be calling you sometime today and your birthday card is in the mail."

"That's nice of her. It's too bad she can't be here tonight, though."

"She's hoping she can come visit this weekend," Meg said. "But it looks like it'll just be you, me, and Raoul for dinner tonight. I can bail if you don't want a third wheel."

"Of course I want you there, Meg," Christine told her. "I think it'll be fun with the three of us."

"Okay, good, because I absolutely do not want to miss your birthday festivities. But if you do want some time alone, just give me the signal and I'll disappear."

"We don't have a signal," Christine pointed out.

"Well, then, let's make a signal." Meg thought for a moment. "Cough three times if you want me to leave."

"What if I just need to cough?" Christine goaded teasingly.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't know. Blink three times."

"Subtle. I like it." Christine glanced at the glowing numbers of the oven clock. "We should probably get going."

Meg groaned. "But it's wet and cold outside and I'm tired. Can't we just stay here? You know, in the name of birthday celebration?"

"As appealing as that sounds, it probably wouldn't be the best decision," Christine sighed as she rose to put her plate in the sink before pulling on her jacket and shoes. "Come on. I have a theory exam right after my shift at the dining hall and I'm going to have to sprint there if I don't want to be late. If I can survive that, you can survive your morning rehearsal."

"And then we'll go have fun celebrating tonight," Meg finished, grabbing her car keys off the counter and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Fine, let's go."

The damp wind hit them as soon as they stepped out the door, and they rushed across the parking lot to Meg's beat-up car, holding their jackets tightly around themselves. The rain had not started falling yet, but the mist was thick enough to leave trails of water trickling down the windows as they made the short drive to the music building, the car's heater uselessly blasting cold air.

"This is it," Meg said as they parked. "This is going to be the winter that kills me."

"It's only October," Christine replied.

"I know," Meg said miserably. "It's only going to get worse."

They climbed out of the car quickly and hurried into the building, sighing in relief as they closed the door on the cool, gloomy morning. As they headed in opposite directions down the hall, Meg called over her shoulder that she would meet Christine back at the apartment before dinner that night. Christine waved back to her, already slipping deep into thought again, mentally going through her music as she walked to her lesson. Stepping into the practice room with a greeting to Erik already on her lips, she paused in the doorway with a small smile.

A little bunch of pink balloons floated above the music stand, and a small bakery box sat atop the piano. Erik stood to the side, his golden eyes trained on her as he watched her with a slight, nervous smile.

"Happy birthday, Christine," he said quietly, and she smiled at the hint of embarrassment in his voice.

"Thanks, Erik. This is really nice of you." She started to take off her backpack and jacket but paused. "How did you know today's my birthday?"

"It's public on your Facebook," he replied quietly, and her smiled widened.

"You Facebook-stalked me?" she teased.

Erik looked away, starting to stutter an explanation but stopping, and she felt a stab of guilt. As composed as he usually was, there had been moments when that composure had cracked and he'd seem painfully timid and uncertain. She did her best to avoid making him feel this way, although it could be hard to tell sometimes what would trigger this reaction. Clearly she'd just hit a nerve, and she felt particularly bad about this one. He'd only been trying to do something nice.

"I was only joking," she offered. "I'm sorry. This is so nice and I really appreciate it." As she spoke, she reached out and gently placed a hand on his forearm. He tensed at her touch and she quickly removed her hand, fearing that she'd only succeeded in making him more uncomfortable.

"It's nothing," he murmured, not quite meeting her eyes.

"It's not nothing," Christine said. "It's really nice. Is that a cake?"

Erik nodded and reached for the small box, opening it and holding it out for Christine to examine. Inside was a prettily decorated cake embellished with tiny red rosettes.

"It's beautiful," she told him "I'll almost feel bad for eating it."

"I'm sorry if this is… weird," he said softly. "I just thought—"

"It's not weird," she told him. "Honestly. Friends should know when each other's birthdays are, right?"

Erik finally seemed to relax a little, his lips quirking into a wary smile. "Right."

"So you'll tell me when your birthday is coming up too, won't you? Unless you're also on Facebook," she added lightly.

He chuckled at this. "I will tell you."

"Good," Christine grinned. "Thank you for this."

"You're welcome." He held her gaze for a moment, and she wished briefly that she could see behind the mask, if only to be able to read his face and have some idea what he was thinking. But he turned abruptly, setting aside her cake and taking his place on the piano bench. "We should begin our lesson. But first there is something I would like to discuss with you."

"What is it?"

"You plan on auditioning for the spring musical, correct?"

Christine shrugged. "I was planning on it. Most people audition, but of course that also makes it pretty competitive. I was in the chorus last year," she added with a touch of pride.

"You could do much better than the chorus," Erik told her, and she let out a small laugh.

"Maybe. Thanks for the optimism." She paused. "Do you know what the musical is? They haven't announced anything yet, but the rumor going around is that it's _Candide_."

"That's correct," Erik replied.

"So you think I should audition?"

"I think you will make a wonderful Cunegonde," he said matter-of-factly.

Christine wavered a little at this. "Erik, I don't know… I don't know if I have the voice for it. Even if they _did_ miraculously choose me over all the girls with more talent and experience, I just don't know if I could handle it. Do you really think I could?"

"I do," Erik replied, his answer so sincere and unhesitant that it made her smile. "It will require some work, but I believe the role is well within your capability, should you choose to commit yourself."

"And if I did commit, and we practiced and practiced for months, and then I didn't get the part… would you be upset?"

"At the imbeciles who didn't cast you, yes. But at you," his voice softened, "no."

Christine considered for a moment. "Alright," she said. "We can try, if you think I could do it. I'll try my best."

"Christine, what I think is of little importance here," Erik replied, meeting her eyes. "What matters is what you think. You cannot commit yourself to getting a role if you're constantly questioning whether you can get it or excel in it. Do you think you can do this?"

His voice held an infectious quality of assurance, and she paused only for a second before taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. "Yes," she said decidedly. "I think I can do this."

Erik gave a satisfied nod. "Good."

The lesson flew by—Erik's excitement was evident as they began to work, and Christine had to admit that, despite some lingering apprehension, she was excited too. The past month of working with Erik had been even more encouraging than she had expected, and she had been happy enough to be seeing her love for music revived. She was starting to look forward to their lessons more than anything else. If she'd already seen such an improvement in both her skill and her passion, maybe she really could improve to the point that she stood a chance at getting this role. The prospect of auditioning, much less actually _performing_ the role, was daunting. Even with Erik's guidance, it would be difficult. But wasn't that why she was here in the first place?—to excel rather than just get by? Despite what Erik had said, his faith in her ability played no small part in her decision to try. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn't exactly an optimistic person by nature, and although he was always encouraging, she knew that he wasn't one to offer praise just for the sake of her ego. He wasn't trying to coddle her or bolster her confidence. He actually believed that she could do this. Maybe, with his help, it really was possible.

"Can I ask you for a favor?" Christine said as they packed up at the end of the lesson. "You can say no, of course."

"What is the favor?"

"Would you mind giving me a ride back to my apartment? It's just down the road a few minutes. I realized I forgot a book that I need for one of my classes, but if I walk I'll probably be late for my shift at work. But if you need to get going, it's not a big deal."

"I suppose I could delay my morning plans for a few extra minutes," Erik said with a hint of a smile.

Christine frowned. "No, really, if you have plans—"

"I don't actually have plans, Christine."

"Oh." A smile formed on her lips at the realization that he had been joking. Or maybe not joking, exactly, but at least not being uncomfortably serious. Maybe she was starting to rub off on him, she thought with some amusement. "Great. Thank you."

She followed him through the halls of practice rooms to the small parking lot at the back of the building, pausing in the doorway when they found the rain falling heavily outside. In a moment Erik had produced a black umbrella from his bag of sheet music, and Christine took his arm to ensure she would stay under its cover. Then they were dashing out into the rain and she almost had to run to keep up with his long, quick strides. She had to laugh a little as she imagined the image they made—her running alongside this lanky man dressed all in black, both of them trying to stay under the small umbrella, pink balloons trailing behind them.

He led her to a plain black car, sleek but not enough to stand out, with heavily tinted windows. Quickly unlocking it, he opened the passenger door and allowed her to climb in. She did so a little awkwardly, pushing the balloons in ahead of her and taking care with the bakery box. Then she was alone for a moment, listening to the patter of the rain against the roof of the unfamiliar car and feeling that the situation was just a little surreal, before Erik reappeared beside her and started the engine.

The short drive was silent except for the quiet directions she gave him and the classical music playing softly on the radio. Erik parked in front of her building and wordlessly got out of the car before Christine could say anything, going around to her door to hold the umbrella over her. Christine gave him a grateful smile, collected her things quickly, and rushed toward the shelter of the apartment complex, Erik matching her steps easily.

She invited him to come into the apartment, and while he seemed a little uncertain, he followed her inside. Shedding her damp jacket and shoes, she turned to find Erik examining the small space with interest.

"It's not much, is it?" she laughed a little, turning to place her cake in the fridge and tying the balloons to one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "But it's close to campus and it's pretty affordable, so it works for us. Thanks again for driving me. Can I get you anything as long as you're here? Maybe some tea or something? Or we can have some cake," she offered, glancing back to where Erik still stood in the entryway. "I mean, I have to get going again soon, but we could eat fast."

"Thank you, I'm fine," Erik told her. "Go get what you need and I can drive you wherever you need to go."

"Oh, you don't need to do that," Christine replied. "I just have to go over to the dining hall on campus, and it's probably easier to get over there walking than driving. I'll just need to find my umbrella."

"You're certain?" Erik's tone made it clear that he was not convinced.

"Yep. I'll be fine. I don't want to make you chauffer me around all day," she said lightly. "But thank you for the ride here. And thank you for my cake and balloons. I love them."

"Try to stay dry. I'll see you tomorrow." Erik paused, giving her a small smile. "Happy birthday."

His smile didn't look quite as unpracticed as it once had, she noticed with a smile of her own.

After he had left, Christine spent the next few minutes rushing around the apartment, double checking that she had everything she needed for the day and searching in vain for her umbrella. She let out a frustrated sigh when she remembered that she'd thrown it out after the last storm had left it in tatters, and a glance out the window confirmed that the rain had not let up at all. The prospect of showing up for work cold and soaked was not an appealing one, but she supposed she didn't really have another choice. She would just have to hurry, she decided, zipping up her jacket and pulling the hood over her head even though she knew that the thin fabric would only provide so much protection.

She stopped when she stooped to put on her shoes, though; folded up neatly next to them was a damp black umbrella.

* * *

The restaurant was busy, but the buzz of conversations and the clinking of dishes weren't overpowering like she would have expected for such a crowd; the place wasn't loud, just lively. Christine sat picking at the remains of her dinner, content to listen to Raoul and Meg talking animatedly about some show they had just discovered they both watched. Taking a sip of her wine, she let her mind begin to wander as the conversation faded into the noise of the room around them.

Unwilling to let herself think about school during her birthday dinner, she turned her thoughts toward her lessons. As intimidating as the months of work ahead of her and the eventual audition were, she had to admit that the thought of it all—of maybe even performing on stage—made her stomach flutter pleasantly. It made her want to return to the practice room this moment and get started. It was a kind of excitement that she hadn't felt in years, and feeling it returning now only made the whole thing that much more appealing.

It occurred to her with a pang that her father would be proud of her.

"Sorry, Christine, we're probably boring you," Raoul said with a laugh, pulling her from her thoughts.

"No, it's fine," she said quickly.

"Instead we should talk about how Christine is going to be a major star," Meg suggested, grinning.

"Well, everyone knows that," Raoul smirked, and Christine rolled her eyes.

"Obviously," Meg laughed. "But now her genius voice teacher seems convinced that she's going to get the lead in the musical this spring, so what we've always known has been officially confirmed."

Christine shook her head, smiling embarrassedly. "Meg's getting ahead of herself. My teacher just suggested that I audition, and he thinks that based on the improvement that I've been making so far, I might have a shot at the role. It's not like I'm getting cast on Broadway or anything."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you got the part," Raoul said. "You've always been good. I remember you singing when we were little." He turned to Meg with a grin. "She would go around the beach asking people to tell her stories and offering to sing a song for them in return."

"That's the most adorable thing I've ever heard," Meg giggled. "See, Christine? I bet all of those people would back us up in convincing you how good you are."

"Everyone who auditions will be good," Christine pointed out.

"Well, you'll be great," Meg replied with conviction. "And we'll be there on opening night to cheer you on."

"Thanks," Christine said. "We'll see how it goes."

They stayed at the restaurant a while longer before hurrying through the cool, misty night to Raoul's car. Christine shivered as she sank into the cold leather seat, but the car warmed up quickly, and a contented sleepiness settled over her as they drove. Soon they had pulled up in front of the apartment, and Meg went inside ahead of her, leaving her and Raoul sitting in the car. Raoul leaned over the console to kiss her, and she returned the kiss gladly.

"Did you have a nice birthday?" he asked quietly, his lips still brushing hers.

She hummed happily. "I did. Thank you for dinner tonight. Food is always an excellent gift."

Raoul smiled. "You know, if you wanted, we could go to my place."

"Oh." Christine paused. "I don't know. It's getting kind of late, and I have class tomorrow morning."

"Okay, that's fine," Raoul said, though she could see the disappointment on his face.

"Sorry."

"No, really, it's okay," he said. "Go get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

She gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Climbing out of her way and quickly crossing to her apartment, Christine glanced back from the doorway and gave Raoul a wave before heading inside. She stood there for a moment, running a hand through her hair with a small sigh, until the sound of Meg rummaging around in the kitchen drew her attention. Peeking around the corner, she had to smile.

"Seriously?" she teased as Meg glanced around the fridge door to her. "We just finished eating like twenty minutes ago."

"Shut up," Meg laughed. "I was putting away the leftovers. Where'd this cake come from?"

"Erik gave it to me."

Meg raised a brow. "Really?"

"Yeah, he had it and those balloons waiting for me in the practice room this morning. It was sweet."

"I was wondering about the balloons."

"Want some?" Christine asked, reaching around Meg to pull the cake out of the fridge.

"Weren't you just making fun of me for eating?"

"Birthday cake doesn't count."

"Well, in that case," Meg laughed, pulling plates from the cupboard while Christine cut into the cake. "That was nice of him to get you something. I don't think any teacher I've had since elementary school even cared when my birthday was."

Christine shrugged, licking a bit of frosting off her finger. "It's probably because I'm his only student. And, I don't know, I guess we're kind of friends too. Or maybe not friends, exactly, but friendly."

"If free cake is involved, I'm not complaining."

Christine smiled to herself, thinking of her odd, awkward, kind teacher. She wasn't complaining, either.


	7. Chapter 7

Erik could tell that something was off the moment Christine stepped into the practice room. Her normally cheery demeanor, which he'd expected to find annoying but now found that he looked forward to, was dimmer. Forced. The sunny smile that usually greeted him was weak, and he wondered if he should ask her about it. But it was probably not his place as her teacher to be enquiring into her personal life, he reasoned, and she may not appreciate the invasion. But, as her teacher, didn't he need to ensure that there was nothing going on that would get in the way of their lessons or distract her from her practice? She needed to be present and focused, and if he was going to make sure she was, he needed to be aware of the cause of any distraction. And she had said that they were friends, hadn't she? Did she expect him to ask her if she was okay like any other friend would, or had she only said that to be nice?

Before he could decide, though, she was asking questions and launching them into the lesson, focusing both her and Erik's attention on an exercise she'd been practicing.

"You're a little sharp, Christine," he said, stopping his accompaniment to correct her. "Start again from the beginning."

Christine nodded and did as he said, but there was no improvement, and he stopped her again.

"Watch your pitch," he said again.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Erik hesitated, wondering if the tone of his voice had been harsher than he'd intended. "Don't be sorry," he told her. "Just try it again."

Christine started again, but they had only made it a few notes before her voice broke. Erik stopped and turned around, finding her half turned away, studying the floor.

"Is there something wrong, Christine?" he asked cautiously.

She shook her head, though she still wouldn't look at him. "No. No, I'm fine. Sorry."

"If something is bothering you, perhaps it would be best to cancel today's lesson and try again tomorrow," he offered, hoping that his words came across gently enough. "You won't make any progress if you're distracted, and—" he paused when he heard her stifle a small whimper. "Christine?"

The tenderness of his voice surprised her, and she sniffled, mortified to be breaking down like this in front of Erik but unable to quite pull herself together.

"I'm really sorry," she said, her words shaky as she tried hard to force down the tears pricking her eyes and caught in her throat. "Today's just a hard day. It's, um… it's the day my dad died."

"Oh." Erik faltered, unsure of what to say.

There was a long pause and Christine sniffled again, blinking hard and taking a deep breath, trying to focus on anything else to keep her thoughts from spiraling into memories of that horrible day. She had thought that she would be fine today. It had been three years, and her life had continued, and she was actually happy. But the day had hit her harder than she'd expected. Maybe it had to do with the lessons—maybe her renewed passion for music made her feel the loss more. Maybe it made her feel that grief in a way she hadn't allowed herself to feel it in a long time, pushing it from a constant but dull pain into something vivid and fresh. Somehow, despite the years that had passed, the memory of that day was a clear as if had happened yesterday. But it hadn't happened yesterday. It had been years. Her life had gone on, was _going_ on, and she'd dared to hope that the grief was becoming something she could live with. She had told herself that she'd be fine, that today shouldn't be harder than any other.

She was close to composing herself when she felt a gentle, timid hand on her back, and the small act of sympathy was all it took to crumble that composure. Erik quickly removed his hand as her shoulders began to shake, helplessly watching her dissolve into tears. Panic bloomed in his chest as he tried to think of what to do. There had to be _something_ he could do to comfort her, but he seemed to have only made things worse so far.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "About your father."

Christine swiped at the tears running down her cheeks even as they stubbornly continued to fall. "I feel like it shouldn't be like this anymore," she sighed. "It's been three years. It's stupid for me to be such a mess right now, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Erik told her, although it occurred to him that he had no right to say so—this kind of deep grief was foreign to him, and he'd never understood the reactions that came from it. Still, it seemed like the right thing to say. "You must have been close."

Christine nodded. "He was my best friend. My mom died in a car accident when I was really little. I don't even remember her. It was always just Dad and me. We moved around so much that I didn't really have any close friends. He was all I had for most of my life."

Erik shifted on the piano bench to make room for Christine and motioned for her to sit down. "Tell me about him."

She smiled a little as she sat down beside him, though tears still streaked her face. "I don't even know where to start," she said. "He was amazing. He was so warm and loving. He always told me stories before bed and played me songs on his violin. We never had much, but with him, that didn't matter. He was always positive and hopeful. He could always make it seem like we had everything we wanted."

She glanced up at Erik. "I think you would have gotten along. He was an incredible violinist. We traveled all over the country, wherever he could find work. Me singing professionally was a dream we shared. And…" she took a shaky breath. "And it's been hard doing all of this when he's not here to see it. I mean, of course I love music, and this is what I want to do. But for most of my life, he _was_ music. It was our thing together. But after… after he died, it felt like something that I was doing to honor him rather than something I was doing because I loved it. Part of me wanted to give up singing altogether because of how much it makes me think of him, but not having that connection would be even worse. And I want to make him proud."

Glancing over at Erik again and finding him watching her intently, she suddenly felt self-conscious and let out a little half-laugh.

"I guess it really doesn't make any difference," she said. "I didn't even get to tell him that I got into this program. It's kind of silly to do something for someone who's dead, isn't it?"

"It's not silly," Erik told her. "I'm sure he's proud of you." The conviction with which he spoke surprised him, never having really believed in an afterlife himself—life had been too cruel to make any kind of eternal reward seem likely and cruel enough that eternal damnation seemed unnecessary. But the watery smile that Christine gave him in response convinced him that he would will an afterlife into existence if only to make her feel better.

After a moment, Christine spoke again. "It was cancer," she said quietly. "It happened so quickly—he had only been diagnosed a couple of months before. I thought he had more time left." She took a deep breath, pushing down the memories of those agonizing months she had spent watching him waste away, gradually for a while but then very suddenly. "I didn't have anyone except for my roommate and her mom. They were there for me the whole time. But losing my dad like that… it was like watching my whole world disappear."

"It must have been very hard for you," Erik said. The words felt inadequate, but they were all he could think of.

Christine nodded, wondering if she should say more. As embarrassed as she was to be sitting her like this, crying in front of her teacher—a man she hadn't even known two months—and talking about her father, it was actually kind of comforting. Erik had offered to listen, and it felt surprisingly good to talk to someone.

"People were always telling me that I should be grateful for all the good memories I have with my dad," she said. "But sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if I didn't have all those memories, you know? Like if we hadn't been so close, it wouldn't hurt as much now. But at the same time I can't imagine not having had that closeness."

"I understand." Erik hesitated a moment before adding, "My mother died some time ago."

Christine looked up, catching the way his lips pressed into a thin line, though she couldn't read the emotion in his voice as he spoke. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "We were never close and I cannot say that I miss her. I suppose I'm spared that pain, at least. But I sometimes imagine that it might have been worth the pain to be even a little closer to her." His words had grown quieter as he spoke until he was almost speaking to himself.

"Was it just the two of you?" Christine asked softly.

"When I was young, yes."

She wanted to ask him more, her curiosity sparked by this brief glimpse into his life, but his tone did not suggest that he wanted to talk about it any further.

"I guess it hurts either way, then," she said instead, wiping her eyes now that her tears were finally subsiding. After a minute, she looked back up at Erik, giving him a small smile. "I really do think my dad would have liked you."

His gaze flickered to her, his surprise somehow evident even behind the mask. "What makes you say that?"

"He always had the greatest respect for people who he saw were truly skilled, which you obviously are," she told him. "And, of course, you're helping me. He'd like you for that."

"It's hardly charity," Erik argued. "I am teaching you as much for the benefit of my pride as anything else." It pained him that this sweet girl seemed to view him so kindly, but he also found that he didn't want to prove otherwise to her. Would it really be so bad to conceal that reality from her?

"I don't believe that. And besides, it's more than just your teaching. I'm…" Christine paused, trying to figure out how she could say what she meant without coming across too intensely. "When Dad died, I kept singing because I knew it was what he would want me to do. Even though I couldn't imagine my life without music, it was really hard for a while. And even once some time had passed and it wasn't as hard, it just wasn't the same. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to enjoy music again, at least not like how I used to. Honestly, I was close to changing majors when we started our lessons. But now I'm enjoying it again. I'm more excited about it than ever."

It was even more than that, she knew—it wasn't just her enjoyment of music that the lessons were restoring. She had been realizing lately that she was feeling better than she had in a long time. Sure, she was busy and often tired and stressed, but she was living rather than sleepwalking. She felt like she had purpose, something to work toward. She felt happy and _alive_. And of course there was more than one factor to that. The simple passing of time always seemed to make things better, and her relationship with Raoul certainly played a large part in her recent happiness. But she was sure that the lessons were helping, maybe even more than anything else, and she had Erik to thank for that.

He sat silently beside her now, his eyes trained on her and his expression—or, at least, what little was visible—inscrutable. Another second ticked by, and Christine began to fear that she may have overstepped some boundary or finally said too much. They had slowly grown more at ease with each other since they had started their lessons, their interactions growing less stilted and formal over time, but she still wouldn't exactly consider what they had a friendship, at least not in the normal sense. Their conversations, when not pertaining directly to the lessons, were still mostly brief and casual. They never talked about very personal things, much less things as personal as Christine had just shared. She knew Erik to be private, reserved. It seemed perfectly possible that her well-meant sentiment would only make him uncomfortable, and she started to wish that she hadn't said anything. But then he spoke, easing her worries.

"I feel similarly," he began a bit awkwardly, glancing at her but quickly looking away again. "I admit that I did not expect to enjoy our lessons—I assumed that I would be proud of any progress you made and frustrated by a lack of it—but this has been… different."

"It's been nice," Christine said, and Erik gave a nod of agreement. She smiled a little. "Sorry for breaking down like this."

"There's no need to be sorry, Christine," he told her.

She hesitated for a moment, considering. "Thanks," she said sincerely. "For everything. For teaching me, for being so kind and making me feel better today. Thank you." She unthinkingly touched his arm as she spoke and removed her hand as soon as her mind caught up, but she noticed that he hadn't seemed as tense as when she'd touched him before.

A small, cautious smile formed on his lips. "Thank _you_, Christine." He couldn't quite put into words what he was thanking her for, even in his own mind, so he left it at that. The only explanation he could give himself was that his life was better than it had been before, and he knew it was because of her.

They sat quietly—not uncomfortably—for a second before he looked away.

"I believe we have some time left if you feel up to resuming out lesson."

Christine's smile grew. "I'd like that."

Christine smoothed her dress as they walked into the restaurant, feeling immediately out of place among the other polished patrons. It wasn't that she was underdressed; it felt more like there was something fundamental about her that made it clear that she had no business being in such a nice restaurant. She looked at Raoul nervously and he gave her a reassuring smile, leading her to a table in the center of the room where an elegant older woman and a man Christine recognized as Raoul's brother waited for them. Philippe gave them a polite nod when he saw them approaching while the woman—Raoul's aunt—smiled with a warmth that didn't quite reach her eyes. Christine tried to shake the feeling of being scrutinized and returned the smile cheerfully.

"Good morning," Raoul greeted them, going around the table to kiss his aunt on the cheek before pulling out an unoccupied chair for Christine. "You both remember Christine, don't you?"

"Of course," his aunt replied, her gaze returning to Christine. "Though you were just a child the last time we met. I would hardly have recognized you, dear."

"It's good to meet you again, ma'am," Christine said. "And you, Philippe. Raoul tells me you've taken over the law firm now."

"That I have," Philippe grinned proudly before shooting a pointed look at Raoul. "Of course, we do expect Raoul to join me once he's finished with school. We all have very high hopes for him."

"He's quite bright, our Raoul," his aunt added, giving Raoul an affectionate pat on the arm. "He will do great things. And, of course, he will have his choice of law schools to attend after he graduates in the spring."

"I'll be extremely glad if it's half as easy as you make it sound," Raoul laughed. "I'll be happy enough when I make it through the applications."

Christine tried not to be impatient as they waited for the food to arrive, telling herself that there was no reason to feel uncomfortable and trying to convince herself that she was wrong when she thought she caught Raoul's aunt examining her with displeasure. Even when the food was in front of them, she could only guiltily pick at the meal that was easily twice the cost of any meal she'd ever had before, her stomach in knots. Raoul's aunt once asked how she liked the food, commenting that she would expect this to be a welcome change in the diet of a college student, and Christine had quickly agreed, adding lightly that it was nice to eat something she hadn't cooked in the microwave. Raoul's aunt only hummed vaguely in reply and turned the conversation back to Raoul.

The summer that she and Raoul had spent together as children had not involved much contact with Raoul's aunt, who he had been staying with and who had been like a third parent to him. She had met Philippe a little more often that summer, but he had been preoccupied with preparing to leave for college and had been uninterested in his kid brother's new friend. But even with as little as she had interacted with them then, she remembered how both of them had doted on Raoul and tolerated her with the kind of detachment given to someone who is an inconvenient but temporary figure in a person's life. This morning, though, it seemed to Christine that she was all but ignored, and when she wasn't she was met with only cool politeness. The table fell into a discussion of Raoul's plans and Philippe's running of the law firm, and while she did her best to listen attentively, it wasn't exactly a conversation she could participate in.

Despite never having been close with Raoul's family, Christine had readily agreed to meeting them this morning when Raoul had asked. His aunt and brother were in town for a few days to check up on him and had agreed to meet his new girlfriend over lunch, though Raoul had made their agreement sound more enthusiastic than Christine suspected it actually had been. She knew how close to them Raoul was and hoped that, now that they were no longer kids and were in a happy relationship, they might be more open to getting to know her. And while they didn't exactly give outward signs of disliking her and were perfectly polite through the meal, she couldn't shake the impression that they were less than thrilled about her presence. Still, Christine tried to reason with herself, if that was true, it wasn't completely unreasonable. Raoul had a lot of hard work ahead of him and they didn't want him getting distracted or pulled off course. It was understandable enough.

When the conversation did turn to her, Christine wished they'd go back to ignoring her instead.

"So, Christine," Raoul's aunt said, turning to her with another lukewarm smile. "It's been so long since we've seen you. Raoul tells us that your father passed away."

"He did, several years ago."

"What a shame. He was the traveling violinist, wasn't he?" Christine nodded. "Not a terribly lucrative career, was it? Did he manage to provide anything for your education, dear? You hear such terrible stories about the amount of debt you young people get into these days."

"Um," Christine stammered, caught off guard by the remarks. "I'm managing just fine. I work, and I have a partial scholarship, so things could be worse."

"And what are you studying? Raoul tells us you still share your father's love for music."

"I do," she replied. "I'm actually majoring in music. I'm studying vocal performance."

"Ah yes, I remember you had such a sweet little voice when you were a child."

"That's quite a challenging field to be successful in, from what I hear," Philippe commented. "Everyone thinks that they can make it big, but there's only so much work."

"It is challenging, but I think the same could be said for a lot of fields now," Christine said calmly, suppressing a prick of defensiveness. "I think that doing something I love so much will make the challenge worth it."

"Not that Christine will have any trouble being successful," Raoul added. "She's wonderful. She definitely inherited her father's gift." Christine gave him a grateful smile and, much to her relief, the conversation moved on from her finances and career plans. She had no desire to argue with Raoul's family, but she couldn't help but feel a little defensive.

After a minute she excused herself, heading to the restroom to clear her head. They couldn't have meant to be insulting, she told herself, and they certainly hadn't meant any disrespect to her father. She was just nervous and a little on-edge, and she'd probably just interpreted their words more harshly than they had meant them. And just because they weren't particularly outwardly affectionate didn't mean that they didn't like her; it certainly didn't mean that they were _against_ her. She had probably unfairly jumped to the conclusion that they disliked her, and that was coloring her view of things. If she just returned to the table with an open mind, she'd certainly see things differently. Taking a deep breath, she turned to go back to the table but hesitated just out of sight when she heard her name.

"…need to be serious about your future," Raoul's aunt was saying.

"Now, Aunt, be reasonable," Philippe said calmly. "He's young. He's allowed to have a little fun, isn't he?"

"I just don't like it," the woman replied. "You need to be focused, Raoul, and I won't have you risking your future for a little fling with someone so far below you. She's a nice enough girl, but she doesn't share your goals. She doesn't understand your life and your obligations."

Christine turned abruptly, not wanting to hear more. With nowhere to go but back to the bathroom, she idled for a few minutes, pretending to be absorbed in fixing her hair and picking invisible lint off her dress, as if she could convince herself that this was what she had come here to do in the first place and that she was in no way hiding while Raoul's family talked about her. Forcing herself to put the conversation out of her mind—it hadn't been meant for her to hear anyway—she did her best to put on a cheerful face and returned to the table. The conversation had apparently ended, and though Raoul looked slightly agitated, she probably would not have noticed anything odd if she hadn't overheard.

"Sorry," she said as she took her seat. "My roommate called and it took a few minutes. Some problem with the wi-fi, I guess."

Raoul's aunt waved airily. "It was no problem, dear."

Christine glanced at Raoul and he briefly met her eyes, giving her a small smile.

The gathering didn't last much longer, and Christine felt bad to be so relieved when it ended. There were a few minutes of awkwardly standing to the side while Raoul exchanged goodbyes, and then it was just the two of them. Slipping her hand into Raoul's as they leisurely walked down the sunny street to where Raoul's car was parked, she tried to forget the unpleasant meal entirely. What mattered most was that she was here with Raoul.

He didn't seem quite as content to let it be, though. "You're quiet," he commented. "I hope you didn't feel like they were attacking you in there. My aunt was just curious about you, but I know she can come off a little severely sometimes."

Christine sighed, mustering up a small smile. "No, it's fine," she said. "I know she didn't mean to be insulting or anything."

Raoul's brow furrowed. "Insulting? Why would she insult you? She doesn't have anything against you."

Perhaps that wasn't entirely untrue, Christine thought, but she certainly was against the idea of Raoul being with her, and Raoul knew that. She tried not to read anything into how quickly Raoul jumped to his aunt's defense. There had been more to that conversation that she hadn't heard, after all. Maybe Raoul had defended her and his aunt had given in, saying that she only wanted Raoul to be happy. Maybe.

"I didn't mean it like that," she told him placatingly. "I guess I just felt like she thought that I'm being irresponsible by not studying something that will give me better career options, or like my dad didn't provide for me enough, or something."

"She didn't mean that. The whole starving artist thing is just kind of foreign to her."

Christine could believe that much, at least. She let the subject drop, although it still didn't entirely sit right with her. They continued on in silence until they reached the car.

"All that stuff about law school and working at your family's firm," she said suddenly, pausing as she started to open the passenger door. "Is that really what you want to do? I mean, I know that's what you've been working towards, but is it really what you want?"

Raoul looked at her quizzically from across the car. "Of course it is. Why?"

Christine looked down. "I guess I just realized that it means you'll be moving away in the spring while I have another year here."

Raoul was quiet for a moment. "Oh."

"But I still think you should do it," she added quickly. "If it's what you want, then do what you need to do. We'll just cross that bridge when we get to it."

Raoul's face was thoughtful as they climbed into the car, but he said nothing else.


	8. Chapter 8

The lobby outside the auditorium was buzzing as the performance let out, people chatting and waiting to meet the friends and family members they had come to see. Christine stood off to the side, content to be on the edge of the crowd as she waited for Meg. She always loved watching Meg dance and had been more than happy to come to the recital tonight, but she always felt a little awkward standing by herself and waiting like this. She didn't have to wait long, though. Meg quickly appeared, talking excitedly with a few of the other dancers as they wove their way through the crowd to Christine.

"Hey, you were great," Christine grinned when Meg was close enough to hear her.

"Thanks," Meg beamed, pulling her into a hug. "And thanks for coming. Did you like it?"

"Yeah, it was really good," Christine replied. "All of you did a great job."

"Listen, a bunch of us are heading over to this party on Green Street if you'd like to join us," Meg said. "It's supposed to be a good one.

Christine smiled but shook her head. "I think I'll pass tonight, but you have fun."

Meg hesitated. "Really, you won't come? I feel bad ditching you."

"It's fine, Meg, don't worry," Christine insisted. "I'll see you at home. Be safe and call me if you need anything."

"Alright," Meg said. "See you at home." With that, she was hurrying off with the other dancers, leaving Christine to make her way through the dispersing crowd to the exit.

The feeling of someone watching her made her pause, but when she turned to glance around her, she couldn't spot anyone who might have been looking at her. Shrugging it off, she pushed open the heavy doors of the university's concert hall only to be greeted by a burst of cold wind. Pulling down the sleeves of her cardigan until they partially covered her hands and wrapping her arms around herself, she stepped out into the night to begin the walk back to the apartment.

She had barely made it a few yards, though, when the prickling sensation of being watched returned. Whipping around to look behind her, she could see a figure standing near the doors of the concert hall, just a dark outline against the warm light streaming out of the building. She turned and continued walking, quickening her steps a little. Of course it wasn't suspicious for someone to be standing there, she reasoned. The recital had just let out and people were leaving. The feeling of being watched did not go away, though, and her heart sped a little at the thought of being followed. It wasn't too far of a walk back to the apartment, but it was far enough. She took a breath, gathering the courage to look behind her again.

"Christine." The voice was suddenly very close to her and made her jump, and even as she recognized the man beside her, it took a second for her to catch her breath.

"Erik," she breathed in relief. "You scared me." He was wearing a different mask tonight, she noticed. The usual black one had been replaced by a skin-toned one that stood out less. She supposed that if she had only glanced at him in passing she might not have noticed it at all.

"I apologize," Erik said with such sincerity that Christine couldn't help but smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"I occasionally attend performances to keep an eye on the department," Erik replied. That much was true, at least. The fact that he had happened to see that Christine's roommate would be a soloist in the recital and figured that Christine would probably be in attendance definitely hadn't influenced his decision. "And you?"

"Meg, my roommate, is a dance major. She was one of the soloists," Christine said proudly. "I'm mostly here to support her, but I do like ballet."

There was a pause, and Christine realized how odd it was to see him outside of their lessons. Her face must have shown her amusement at the thought.

"What?" Erik asked.

"Nothing," Christine replied. "It's just, you know when you were a little kid and you kind of thought that teachers lived at school because you just couldn't imagine them anywhere else? And then you saw your teacher at, like, the grocery store and it seemed really bizarre."

Erik's confused silence answered that he did not know what the experience was like.

"Never mind," she said quickly. "I've just never seen you outside of our lessons, except for when you drove me home that once."

"And you find seeing me here… unpleasant?"

"No, not at all. Just unexpected."

Erik gave a nod, satisfied with this. Another moment passed with only the faint sound of traffic to break the silence. The breeze picked up again and Christine shivered; without a word Erik removed his jacket and offered it to her.

"That's okay, I'm fine," Christine told him, smiling. "I was heading home anyway."

"Would you like a ride?"

"Sure. That'd be great, actually."

"I'm parked just over there," Erik said, nodding. She turned to head in the direction of Erik's car but stopped when he made no move to follow. When she turned back to him, she found him still holding out the jacket to her. "Take it, Christine. You're cold."

Christine reluctantly accepted the jacket from him, slipping her arms into the too-large sleeves. "Won't you be cold?" she asked, immediately aware of how much the jacket sheltered her from the wind.

"I'll be fine," he said with a small smile. Then he turned and started walking without another word, and she followed, wondering amusedly at this man she couldn't quite seem to figure out.

The drive to the apartment passed in comfortable silence, and when they arrived, Christine slid the jacket off and handed it back to Erik.

"Thanks," she said. "And thanks for the ride home." She paused, considering. "Do you want to come in and have some tea or something? Meg went to some party after the recital so I have the apartment to myself tonight."

Erik looked at her for a moment, half expecting her to realize that she had just invited him to spend time with her and rescind the offer; she had probably just been being polite, making the kind of offer that she expected him to thank her for but decline. But she sat there waiting for a reply, watching him earnestly with those warm, dark eyes, and his heart beat a little faster.

"Alright," he said eventually. "If it's not inconvenient for you, that would be nice."

"Great," she smiled. Climbing out of the car and quickly leading him across the parking lot, she let him into the apartment. "Make yourself at home. I'll go and make some tea."

Erik nodded, watching as Christine headed into the kitchen and busied herself filling the kettle. There wasn't much to the apartment—the quick look he'd had before had revealed just about everything—but he found himself wandering around anyway. The apartment was only filled with a few worn basics, but there were little signs of Christine everywhere: scattered books, little knick-knacks, an empty mug or two. He reached the doorway to what appeared to be her bedroom and turned away quickly, sure that she wouldn't want him to look inside. Instead he returned to the living room and took a seat on the sofa, and Christine reappeared a minute later with a steaming mug in each hand. She offered one to Erik before, to his surprise, sitting down beside him.

"I'm surprised to see that your Friday night apparently starts and ends with the ballet," Erik commented.

Christine shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. "Raoul, my boyfriend, is out of town this weekend. And since Meg's at that party, I'm left without plans."

Erik felt an odd twinge at the word "boyfriend," but he pushed it aside, choosing not to think about it. "No parties for you?"

"It's not really my thing." Christine paused, watching Erik for a moment. "So did you grow up around here?

Erik glanced at her questioningly and she laughed.

"I'm just curious," she said. "We've spent an hour together almost every day for two months and I know basically nothing about you. And I figure that this is a more acceptable venue to talk about personal stuff than our lessons."

Erik relented, a little amused. "I did not. I ended up here about five years ago."

"So where were you before here?"

"Why do you ask?" he replied with a small smile.

She shrugged. "I told you, I'm curious."

"About me?"

"Yes, very," she laughed. "Besides, I told you about my dad. I even cried in front of you, which was super embarrassing. So now it's my turn to learn something about you. Maybe even something embarrassing if you really want to even things out."

With anyone else, Erik wouldn't have been swayed. His life was not something that he enjoyed thinking about, and he certainly never talked about it. The only person he might consider talking to was Nadir, but since Nadir already knew everything, there was mercifully no need to ever talk about it. But Christine was sitting beside him so casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be here right now, and he felt… not quite at ease, he supposed—he was far too aware of her to be completely comfortable—but he felt strangely good. He would probably be annoyed later by his inability to deny her, but for now it was far too tempting to indulge her. He would just need to leave out the details.

"I traveled a lot before I came here," he said. "When I was quite young, I went all over the country, and eventually I traveled all over the world, just seeing where I ended up and moving on when it was time." That sounded pleasant enough, he thought—no hint of the years of barely surviving on the street.

"What got you started traveling?"

"I started when I decided to leave home and my mother. The two of us had lived a fairly secluded life, and it wasn't exactly pleasant. She didn't like me."

The matter-of-factness in his tone startled Christine. "Erik, I'm sure that's not true. She was your mother."

"I… wasn't what she wanted," Erik sighed, gesturing vaguely to the mask. "I'm sure you've guessed by now."

Christine looked at him a little astonished, unsure how to respond to his reference of an expressly forbidden subject. When he glanced hesitantly at her, she gave him a small nod—it had occurred to her that the mask might not just be an eccentricity, that it could be _concealing_ something.

He shifted, a little uncomfortable, but continued. "She wanted a perfect child to remind her of my father, and instead she got me."

He hadn't really meant to be this open, and with a pang of guilt he recognized the sadness on Christine's face. Even with as little as he'd told her, even with as much of the pain as he left out, he'd still managed to hurt her.

"At any rate," he said quickly, "I eventually wound up in some trouble abroad." _That_ certainly wasn't a lie. "I managed to return to the country and wandered for a while. But I decided that I was tired of living nomadically, and here seemed as good a place as any to stop."

"I'm glad you did," Christine said with a smile, banishing any lingering traces of pity from her expression.

Warmth bloomed in his chest at her words, and he gave her a shy smile. "I am too."

It was odd, he thought, how just a smile from her could make him feel like this—like he was somehow separate from the awful things in his past, like he was closer to being whole and content. Part of him wanted to berate himself for letting her get to him like this, but it was too pleasant of a feeling for him to put a stop to it.

"Can I ask you one more question?" Christine continued after a moment.

Erik nodded, though her hesitancy made him a bit nervous about what the question might be.

"Why are you wearing a different mask tonight?"

He nearly sighed in relief; that was an easy enough answer. "This one blends in better. It's easier to go unnoticed in a crowd. I prefer the black one, though. It's more comfortable."

"That makes sense," she said, pleased that he had so easily told her about the masks. As little as he shared about himself, maybe he was finally starting to feel comfortable enough to open up.

They were quiet for a moment before Erik spoke again. "I watch soap operas," he said quickly, his voice low, and Christine gave him a confused look.

"What?"

"You asked for something embarrassing," he replied.

For a second, Christine wasn't sure what to say. And then the laughter bubbled up out of her, light and genuine. The sound was infectious, and Erik found himself chuckling a little with her, caught up in the way she seemed to light up as she laughed.

"You watch soap operas?" she repeated, still laughing. "Like, every day?"

"Not every day," he defended. "…But there are a couple that I watch once or twice a week."

"Oh my god," she grinned. "Thank you for telling me that. I think we're even now."

The loud buzzing of her phone interrupted them, and she dug through her purse with an apologetic look to Erik.

"It's Meg," she explained before answering. "Meg? What's up? …Oh, um, yeah, I can do that. Where is it? …Okay, I'll be there in like fifteen minutes."

"Is everything alright?" Erik asked when she hung up.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Everything's fine. Meg just wants me to come and pick her up from this party. I guess the friends she was with abandoned her." Christine was already standing to pluck the extra set of car keys from the hook on the wall. "Sorry to end this so abruptly," she said.

"Oh, of course. It's fine," he replied quickly, feeling a pang of guilt at her genuine apology—he really had no right to be there in the first place, and here she was apologizing for not spending more time with him.

"Is there any way you could drop me off back at the music building? Meg left her car there before the recital."

"I could just take you to get Meg," Erik offered. "It would be faster that way. Just tell me where to go." The words came out without thinking; he'd spoken on impulse, that desperate, reckless part of him urging him to try to spend just a little more time with her. He knew that he should take the offer back, but he couldn't quite make himself do it.

"You really don't have to do that," Christine protested.

"It's no trouble. I don't mind at all."

"Alright," she said after a second of consideration. "That'd be great. Thanks."

Erik nodded and stood to gather his jacket and keys, but he stopped when he felt a warm hand on his arm.

"And thanks for hanging out with me tonight," she added. "This was fun."

He looked down at where her hand lightly rested on his forearm, smiling a little. It occurred to him that he had probably smiled more in the past two months than he had before in his entire life. "I thought so too."

The party was in full swing when Erik and Christine pulled up in front of the house, and he gave her a sidelong glance.

"Meg and I will really owe you for this," she said, straining to see out of the car. "I don't see her out here. I'll try calling her."

They waited a minute while the phone rang, the thrumming of the bass from the party reverberating through the car in the silence. Christine sighed when there was no answer.

"She's not picking up. I'll just run in and grab her. It'll only take a minute."

Erik glanced back toward the house, eying the group of burly and clearly intoxicated young men who were stumbling inside. "I'll go with you," he said, turning off the car before Christine could protest.

She looked a little relieved. "I'll text Meg and tell her we're here. Hopefully she'll be looking for us."

As they climbed out of the car, the thudding bass intensified, accompanied by muffled music filtering out of the house; when they walked inside, the volume increased so much that Christine wondered how anyone could stand to be there for more than a few minutes. She and Erik shared a look, grimacing a little at the chaos that greeted them. The place was packed so that they could hardly move without bumping into someone, and the fact that anyone having a conversation had to yell to be heard over the music did nothing to make the noise more bearable. At least everyone seemed either too drunk or too involved in their own activities to give Erik a second glance.

They had weaved their way through a couple of rooms when Christine spotted Meg, who waved and made her way through the crowd towards them.

"Christine," Meg called, the noise of the party threatening to swallow up her voice. "I know I said I was ready to go, but that guy who works at the coffee shop in the library just got here, and if you give me ten minutes to get his phone number I'll love you forever."

"Can't you just get it when you see him at the coffee shop?"

"Have you ever seen that place be less than insanely busy? Good flirtation can't be shouted quickly over people's latte orders."

Christine wondered how it apparently _could_ be shouted over blaring music and the raucous game of beer pong in the kitchen. "Well, I would say that's fine, but I'm not the one who drove here," she said, glancing back at Erik.

Meg's eyes flickered to him, just now noticing the masked man who loomed behind Christine. She shot a questioning look to Christine before giving him an uncertain smile. "You must be Erik, right? Thanks for picking me up."

"You may stay longer if you wish," he told her. "We will meet you outside."

Meg lit up, already turning to hurry off. "Ten minutes, I swear!"

Christine gave him a teasing grin. "That was nice of you, but now we're stuck at this party."

Erik shrugged. As nervous as the crowd made him, no one seemed to be taking particular notice of him so far. And it may have occurred to him that being nice to Christine's best friend would be met with her approval. He was glad, however, when she led them back out of the crush of people and onto the lawn. They stood to the side of the house, out of the path of anyone coming or going, and for a minute they waited in silence.

"I love this song," Christine said when the music playing inside changed, absentmindedly swaying a little to the beat. She paused when she caught Erik watching her, feeling her cheeks grow warm. But she noticed the small smile on his lips—faint but easy, like he wasn't aware of it. There had been so few times when he had looked so genuine, and she decided that some dorky dance moves and a bit of embarrassment on her part was worth keeping that smile in place.

"Is that how you dance?" he asked amusedly.

"Why?" Christine laughed, her less-than-graceful movements becoming more exaggerated. "Am I embarrassing you?"

"No," he said with a chuckle.

"How about now?" she teased.

"No."

"Are you really sure?"

"I'm sure," he confirmed, his smile widening. "But I will have to teach you how to _actually_ dance at some point."

Christine rolled her eyes. "What, is this not _actual _dancing?"

"That's not what I would call it, no."

"Hey, you don't get to criticize me until you show me some of your moves," she said, stopping to take a step closer to him, her hands on her hips. "Show me how it's done."

"This is hardly the right music," he started to argue, but she had taken another step closer and the challenging look on her face was quite sweet, and once again he found that he didn't have the will to deny her. He sighed, and she grinned triumphantly.

Holding out his hand for her to take, he hesitated for a second before placing the other on her waist, his fingers nervously skimming the soft fabric of her cardigan. His heart was suddenly pounding heavily in his chest as he realized just how close to her he was. He was intensely aware of the pleasant pressure of her free hand resting on his shoulder. As he began to instruct her to take the first step, he glanced up and met her eyes, and the words died on his lips.

It had, of course, occurred to him before now that she was attractive. He had noticed it, objectively, that night when he had seen her for the first time at the Nightingale. And in the months since then, it had struck him from time to time how the warmth of her eyes and the sweetness of her smile made her seem all the more beautiful. But there had been a kind of barrier in place then, and this, now, felt different. In their lessons, he had a defined role; he was her teacher, and the rigid definition of that role had been something he had clung to since the beginning. She had agreed to work with him as her teacher, so as long as he was only her teacher, he would be safe. True, it had been a while since he was _only_ her teacher. Things between them had gradually grown more comfortable, less awkward. There were very few people Erik tolerated, and only one who he would even come close to considering a friend, but he'd found himself actually looking forward to seeing Christine—and not just for her voice. And then tonight she had voluntarily spent time with him, not for the sake of improving her voice but just to spend time with him. Somehow, without him even realizing it, he had found himself stepping beyond his role.

Maybe that had been enough to break down the barrier between finding her attractive and being attracted _to_ her. Now he was very aware of the warmth of her hand in his, of the very few inches of space between them. He wanted to pull her closer. His gaze flickered to her mouth, where her playful smile had started to fade into an expression he couldn't quite read, and he felt something stir inside him. For the briefest moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

But then he met her eyes again and the impossibility of it all came crashing down on him. Just her agreeing to take lessons from him had been improbable at best; any closeness that had developed between them was cautious and uncertain and almost definitely involved some amount of pity on her part. She was so gentle and kind and he was… well, _him_. The relationship they had was already so much more than he could reasonably expect. How could he even think about anything more?

Her gaze dropped from his. "Actually, Meg will be here soon," she murmured, her hand falling from his shoulder as her grip on his hand weakened. "I don't think we'd make it very far. But maybe you could teach me another time?"

Erik nodded, letting his hands fall to his sides and taking a small step back. "Yes. Another time."

As if on cue, Meg emerged from the house only a few seconds later, the end of the song amplifying for a moment when she opened the door. She glanced around for a second before spotting them. "Got it," she beamed triumphantly. "Thanks for waiting for me."

Erik was already heading toward the car, and Meg lingered to walk beside Christine. Her brow furrowed as she scrutinized her friend's face. "Hey, is everything okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Christine replied, giving Meg an unconvincing smile. "Everything's fine."

Meg gave Christine a doubtful look, and though she said nothing more, Christine knew there would be questions when they got home. As they climbed into Erik's car, though, Christine was grateful for the silence. She wasn't sure what she would say even if she understood what had just happened.


	9. Chapter 9

"So," Meg said as soon as the apartment door was closed behind them. "Are you going to tell me what happened back there?"

Christine stooped to pull off her shoes, avoiding Meg's eyes. "I really don't think there's anything to talk about."

"Let's just start with the beginning of the night and work our way up to now because, honestly, there's not really a part of this that I understand." Meg settled into a corner of the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest as if she was preparing to hear a good story. Christine sat down beside her, knowing that when Meg was determined to get information there was no escaping it, even when she had no information to give.

After they had left the party, Erik had driven them silently back to the music building to get Meg's car. Meg had climbed out of the car with another 'thank you' to Erik, and Christine had followed her quickly, muttering a brief goodnight and saying that she would see him on Monday morning. Erik had mumbled a reply, and she had crossed the dark parking lot and climbed into the driver's seat of Meg's car without another word. She'd hoped that the drive back to the apartment would have been enough time for her to gather her thoughts at least a little, but she was just as uncertain now as she had been when they'd left the party.

She wasn't sure what had shifted between Erik and her. They had been having fun, and she had been hopeful that he might actually be comfortable with her. It had been nice to see the departure from the stiff formality that had prevailed for so long and had only recently started to relax. She'd come to like the sort of friendship that they were developing, and tonight had seemed to encourage it. But then something had happened and he'd withdrawn again.

She couldn't quite let herself think about that brief moment when they had been standing so close and something in his eyes had made her breath catch.

"So my recital ends and I head off for the party," Meg prompted. "What do you do?"

"I started to walk home and I ran into Erik," Christine said. "I guess he does a lot of advisory stuff for the music department and likes to kind of watch over it, so he goes to performances sometimes. He offered to give me a ride home, and then we ended up just hanging out and talking for a while."

"He doesn't seem like a particularly talkative guy."

Christine laughed a little. "He's not, but he talked a little bit tonight. It was actually kind of fun. Then you called asking for me to pick you up, and Erik offered to drive."

Meg hummed thoughtfully at this but offered no explanation when Christine looked at her questioningly. "Go on."

"That's pretty much it, though. We went to the party, found you, and now we're back here," Christine said with a shrug.

"No, there's something that you're skipping," Meg insisted. "Something was weird when I came outside. It was… I don't know. There was just something off."

"Maybe you're just not used to Erik," Christine offered. "He can come off as a little tense."

Meg looked at Christine thoughtfully. "You really don't want to talk about this."

Christine sighed. "It's not that I want to keep something from you, Meg, it's just that… I don't know. I don't know what it is. There was just kind of a weird moment and I don't really know what to make of it. But it's fine," she added quickly. "It's not a big deal."

"Alright," Meg said. "I'm tired anyway. I'm going to bed."

"Okay. Goodnight."

Christine remained on the couch after Meg had disappeared into her room. She felt oddly unsettled and wasn't ready to go to bed. But there really was no reason to be unsettled, she told herself. Nothing had happened, just like she had told Meg. It had only been a brief moment, just one of those little awkward moments that happens all the time. Except it didn't feel awkward, not exactly. It had been pleasant at first. She had made him smile, had made him laugh. And then they had been standing closer than they ever had, and her hand was in his, and his hand was on her waist, and something had changed. He had looked at her with such intensity, but there had still been a kind of softness to it. She had grown accustomed to the expressionless mask over the last two months, instead learning to read his eyes, his demeanor. She knew she had seen the shift; she just didn't know what to make of it.

That moment had made her heart beat a little faster. But this had been immediately followed by a stab of guilt, though she told herself she had no reason to feel guilty. Things between them weren't like that. Nothing had happened.

And then Erik had been pulling away, not meeting her eyes. He had hardly spoken the rest of the night. Had he seen the change in her expression and taken it as something against him? Or maybe she was misreading things entirely—maybe he'd suddenly realized how close they were and had grown uncomfortable, or maybe it was something else that she wasn't even thinking of. Christine sighed, tiredly pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Meg certainly wasn't alone in not understanding tonight.

* * *

She wasn't sure if she was glad when the beginning of their next lesson seemed completely normal or if she was just confused by it. She hadn't known what to expect when she stepped into the practice room that morning—if it would be weird, if Erik would even speak to her or if they would have reverted back to the rigid silence of their first lessons. But Erik greeted her normally when she arrived, even offering her a small smile.

"How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked, searching for any sign of the shift that she had seen that night.

"A bit of a blur," he replied, turning his attention back to the stack of music he was sorting through. "I spent most of it composing and almost lost track of time completely. I suppose we're lucky that I'm here now and not still buried in my music room."

Christine smiled a little at this. Maybe she had been making more of that moment than was necessary. It seemed like nothing had happened now, and she supposed she shouldn't overthink it—she should just be relieved that there was no lingering awkwardness or anything. It really _had_ been nothing.

"Well, that sounds much better than spending the whole weekend working and writing an essay," she said. "But I survived, and now I'm ready to get into some music."

The lesson proceeded as usual. Erik guided her through some warm-ups and exercises, and then it was time to turn to the piece she had been working on. He played a brief introduction for her and she took a breath, glancing over the mess of notes on the pages in front of her. As soon as she began, she wanted to stop and start over, and she waited for Erik to comment. No correction came, though, and instead she struggled through a few more lines before breaking off abruptly with a frustrated huff.

"Is there a problem, Christine?" Erik asked, turning to look at her.

"No, not exactly," she sighed. "Sorry. I just… I'm a little frustrated."

"Why?"

"Because we've been working on this for a over a week now and I'm still struggling with the same things," she said. She met Erik's eyes but quickly looked away, a little ashamed by her small outburst when he never seemed ruffled by her lack of progress.

"It just takes time and practice," he said calmly. "You're working hard and you _are_ improving. Just because you're struggling now doesn't mean it's beyond your reach."

"But what if I'm just not good enough?" she asked quietly. "What if you overestimated me?"

Erik shifted to face her more fully. "Christine, do I seem like the kind of person who would waste my time?"

Christine shook her head.

"Do I seem like someone who would make you believe that you are more talented than you are? Or perhaps make an error in my musical judgment?"

"No."

"And do you claim to know more than I do when it comes to the matter?"

"I would never." She glanced up and, much to her surprise, found a smile tugging at his lips.

"You must try to be patient," he told her. "What we're working on is meant to be difficult. There would be no point in learning these pieces if they did not challenge you. I am pleased with the progress you have made, and you should be too. The fact that there is still more work to be done does not indicate that the goal is unattainable."

Christine nodded slowly. "Right. Okay. You're right. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry." His voice was gentle, and when she looked up again, he was watching her with an odd intensity in his golden eyes. He looked away quickly.

They resumed their lesson and Christine began the piece again with a little more confidence, and though she still stumbled in places, she made herself continue until she had finished the section. Erik seemed pleased, and the rest of their short time together went smoothly. By the time Christine had to leave, her frustration had dissipated; it even felt like she had made a bit of progress.

"I wish we had more time," she said apologetically as she packed up her things. "I'll be registering for next semester soon. Maybe I'll get lucky and my schedule won't be quite so hectic. It'd be nice if I had more time for our lessons."

"That would be nice," Erik agreed quietly.

"So, you know I'll be going home part of next week for Thanksgiving," she began as she slung her backpack over one shoulder.

"I assumed as much."

"Well, I was thinking," she continued a little warily, watching him carefully to gauge his reaction. "I don't know if you have any plans, but I wanted to invite you to our dinner."

Erik looked at her suddenly, and she hastily continued.

"Of course you don't have to come. But it's just Meg and her mother and me, and they'd both love to meet you. Well, I guess Meg's met you now, but they'd like to get to know you, and I think you would get along with them. Mrs. Giry used to be a very talented ballerina and she knows a lot about music, so there'd be plenty to talk about."

"I… I do not know if they would be pleased with a strange masked man joining your family dinner," Erik said carefully.

"Oh, no, they would be happy to have you," she told him. "We've talked about it. I've told them a lot about you."

He smiled a little bit at this. "Dare I ask how you possibly could have explained me to your family?"

Christine laughed lightly. "I told them that you're very private and a little bit… eccentric…"

"Of course you found the kindest possibly way to say that."

"But I also told them that you're a genius and that I'm very fortunate to have you as my teacher, and that you're very kind and patient with me," she finished.

"You view me too kindly, Christine," Erik said quietly, unable to meet her eyes.

"I really don't," she replied. "That's all the truth. Look at today, even. I'm incredibly lucky that you're my teacher."

"I'm the lucky one," he said softly, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. After a second he went on. "I… it is a very kind offer, and I appreciate it very much. But I do not think it would be possible."

Christine nodded—this had been about what she had expected. She had only been concerned that he might not have anyone and had figured she could at least give him the option. "I understand. But the invitation still stands if you change your mind."

"Thank you." There was something about the way that he said the words that pained her; it was so tender, like he was truly, deeply grateful. If anyone was indebted, though, surely it was she. Any kindness that she showed him was only repaying the kindness he'd already shown her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said.

Erik nodded. "See you tomorrow."

As Christine made her way down the halls, she thought, not for the first time, how much easier things might be if she could just see his face. If he was just a little less inscrutable, if she could catch more than a glimpse of the thoughts that she just barely got to see… maybe then she'd be able to identify what it was that always left her a little unsettled, though not in a bad way.

Her steps quickened when she pushed open the heavy main doors and found Raoul waiting for her outside. She had hardly heard from him all weekend, and while she knew it had only been a couple of days, it seemed like it had been much longer than that since they had shared more than a few texts here and there. With a pang of disappointment she realized that this visit would be little more than that before she'd need to get to work, but at least it was more time with Raoul than she had expected.

Raoul was waiting for her with open arms, taking a few steps forward to meet her as she drew closer. Christine hurried into his embrace, giggling as he lifted her off the ground for a moment before gently placing her back on her feet with a kiss.

"Hey, I was hoping I'd catch you," he grinned. "Care for a ride to work?"

"Absolutely. It feels like it's been ages since I've seen you," she told him.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm probably going to be pretty swamped for a while."

"It's alright," she said, taking his hand as they walked to the car. "Only a month until break, and then we'll have plenty of time."

"That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about," Raoul said, pausing as they reached the car. "Apparently we have a family ski trip planned for most of the break."

"Oh."

"But," he continued quickly. "I was hoping that you might join us after Christmas."

Christine paused. "Oh, Raoul, that sounds really nice, but I couldn't—"

"You would be my guest," he said. "Consider it a Christmas present, if that would help. And having you there would be a present for me, too."

She smiled in spite of herself. "But would your family really want me intruding on their trip?"

"Of course," he told her with a laugh, as though the question had been completely unfounded. "I mentioned this to my aunt and she thought it was a great idea. We'd love to have you with us."

Christine somehow doubted that the woman she'd met was _quite_ as welcoming as Raoul made her out to be, but he was looking at her so hopefully, and it would be nice to have that extra week with him…

"I'll think about it," she told him. "But it does sound great. Thanks for inviting me."

Raoul pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Sounds good. I'm optimistic that you'll agree. But we should probably get going—I wouldn't want to make you late for work."

* * *

Erik remained sitting at the piano for a minute after Christine left. It felt like he had been holding his breath since the lesson began. She had seemed a little uncertain when she first came into the practice room, and he had feared that things had changed between them. But then they had fallen into their lesson naturally, and by the end it was like nothing had happened. Maybe that moment outside the party _had_ been nothing. Or at least she hadn't noticed anything.

As relieved as he was about that, he couldn't stop thinking about that moment.

He still couldn't quite believe that the urge to kiss her had entered his mind at all. It was ridiculous, and he should know better by now; he would have thought that after all these years any hope of companionship, of being close to someone in any way beyond perhaps cautious tolerance, had long ago been beaten out of him. He knew perfectly well that no one, even someone as kind and generous as Christine, would really desire his company in any way, much less in a way that even verged on romantic. And he had always told himself that he was fine with that. What was the use of wanting to be part of a world that would only scorn him? It was just his lot in life.

Nadir had been the one exception to this. The two of them had been thrown together in Iran. Erik had been at his lowest point, and Nadir had saved his life, both literally and not. Nadir had seen to it that Erik made it out of the country, even knowing that he was risking his life for a man who had done terrible things. Erik had argued that he wasn't worth saving, but Nadir had been persistent—Erik still didn't understand why. Nadir had only told him that he'd had nothing to lose, that his son had been his entire life and he'd already lost him.

Neither of them had suggested that Nadir flee with Erik. It had just happened, and then they had just stayed together.

Still, the relationship had always been a somewhat tense one, and though things had grown less strained over time, Erik knew that Nadir still kept a close eye on him. The lingering suspicion was not unfounded, he supposed—after everything Nadir had witnessed and with everything that he knew, he had plenty of reason to worry about what would happen should Erik relapse into old habits. Erik also knew that, as much as this concern was for anyone who might fall victim to him, it was also for his own well-being.

This did not make Nadir's habit of dropping by unannounced less annoying. Erik grimaced at finding the familiar car parked in front of his house when he arrived.

"I would think that breaking into houses would be a behavior you'd want to avoid modeling for me," he said flatly as he walked inside, hardly sparing a glance at Nadir as he headed to the music room.

"Anything of the sort that I could model would be elementary compared to what you already know," Nadir replied, unfazed, from his seat in Erik's living room. "Besides, it's hardly breaking in if I used a key."

"That key is for emergencies."

"You weren't answering the door. How was I to know?" Nadir paused, watching as Erik sat down at the piano, flipping through sheet music but not playing anything. "I'm surprised you were out. I hope it's a good sign that you look less tense than I would expect."

Erik sighed inwardly. He had been able to avoid telling Nadir about the lessons, but he supposed the man would get it out of him sooner or later. Perhaps it would be easier to just tell him—the fact that two months had passed without some terrible disaster should help smooth over the revelation.

"I was teaching," he said simply. "I've taken on a student."

Nadir's surprise was evident. "A student? I thought you said you'd never take a student."

"I made an exception."

Nadir nodded once, still watching him carefully. "How long have you been teaching this student?"

"A little over two months."

Nadir raised a brow. "Two months? You've never mentioned it."

"I must have mentioned it at some point," Erik replied, though he doubted Nadir would buy it.

Nadir made no further comment on the omission, figuring it would be useless to argue the point with Erik when they both knew he knew the truth. "I've been telling you for years that you ought to teach," he said instead, "and you've always said that it would be impossible, that even aside from the obvious impediment, you would never be able to find anyone gifted enough to hold your interest. This student of yours must be something special."

"She certainly is. Her voice…" He shook his head. "It's impossible to describe. But the moment I heard her, I knew I had to train her."

"You approached her?"

"It was spur of the moment," Erik admitted. "Reckless. But she's been a remarkable student."

"I suppose she'd have to be to hold your interest," Nadir said. "Does she have a name?"

"Christine." Just saying her name felt oddly affectionate, and he fought to keep any tenderness from his voice.

"And she doesn't mind the mask?" Nadir asked a little hesitantly.

"I don't know. I asked her not to question it and she hasn't."

Nadir hummed thoughtfully. As much as he wanted to know more, as many questions as he had, he knew it would be best not to push Erik. Perhaps, over time, he would open up more on his own, but if he pushed him now, Erik would close off and the subject would become untouchable. "Well, I'm glad it's working out. It will do you good to get out of the house more often."

Erik nodded but didn't reply; he wasn't quite sure if it was doing him good or not.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello, lovely readers! I figured chapter 10 was a good place to pop in and say thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. It makes me so happy to hear from you all. I've been working on this story for quite a while and I'm so excited to finally be sharing it. I hope you're all enjoying it so far. Please do leave a review**—**it really makes my day!**

* * *

The thick clouds filling the sky promised snow as Meg and Christine loaded up Meg's car, ready to sit in traffic as they joined the rest of the university in going home for the holiday.

"Okay, fine, you may have been right," Meg sighed when they were met with a line of brake lights as soon as they pulled onto the main road. "We should have left last night."

"I don't understand how this is just now occurring to you," Christine laughed. "This is the third time we've done this. Did you really think traffic would be better this year?"

"Well, they say you tend to forget traumatic events, right? That's clearly what happened here," Meg said. "Besides, I have never claimed to be good at making decisions."

"You claim that all the time. In fact, when I asked why we were leaving this morning instead of last night, I believe your exact words were, 'Trust me, Christine, I am the master of good decisions.'"

"So I _might _have said something like that. But the fact that you listened to me should prove that you're just as bad as I am."

Christine chuckled and shook her head, settling back into her seat and contenting herself with watching the familiar town crawl by until it dissipated into grassy fields and interstate. The Girys' house had never exactly felt like home, but it felt good to be returning just the same. She supposed it probably should feel like home—even though she had only lived there for less than a year by the time she and Meg moved away for college, they always returned for summers and holidays, making it the house that she had inhabited the longest even with the fact that she only lived there for part of the year. Meg and her mother had done everything they could to make her feel welcome, to make her feel like she was home, especially right after her father had died. It was certainly the place that Christine considered her home. She had just never felt entirely settled there.

Still, the prospect of the week ahead of them was a cheerful one. A week without class or work would help her get caught up on everything, including sleep. A week without lessons was the one part of the break she regretted, but she'd be back in the practice room with Erik soon enough.

She hoped he wasn't completely alone this week. It seemed fairly unlikely that he had anyone, though she supposed he could have friends that she didn't know about. She didn't know him _that_ well. But still. The idea of being completely alone on a holiday felt bleak.

Meg seemed to read her thoughts. "So Erik said he already had plans for Thanksgiving?"

"I don't know if he has plans or not. He just said that he didn't think it would be possible for him to join us."

Meg wrinkled her nose. "Cryptic guy."

Christine laughed. "I know. And I'm sure he could be even more so if he wanted to."

"And Raoul isn't planning on coming by at all?"

"No, it sounds like they're having a big family thing," Christine said. "So it's just the three of us."

Meg smiled. "I like it when it's just the three of us."

"It is nice," Christine agreed.

"I talked to Mom yesterday, and she says she has a list of things for each of us to make this year. She claims she's just trying to teach us how to cook, but I'm pretty sure she's actually trying to send us back to school with as much food as possible."

"I wouldn't complain about that," Christine laughed. "There are only so many ways you can make mac and cheese. I wouldn't mind a bit more variety."

"Don't tell Mom that. We'll just spend the entire week cooking. We won't be able to fit all the leftovers into the car."

"What a terrible problem that would be," Christine smirked.

"Truly awful," Meg agreed.

The drive home was long with everyone heading out of town, but it wasn't unpleasant. Meg turned up the radio, dancing to the upbeat pop songs as much as the confined space would allow her whenever traffic slowed to a stop, even when this started drawing looks from the passengers in the cars around them. Christine laughed as she watched her best friend, joining in only for her favorite songs and quietly humming along the rest of the time, insisting that she was trying to focus on some reading for class but really only rereading the same paragraph without absorbing any of it.

The atmosphere in the car sobered slightly when they entered town, though Christine wished it hadn't. She was fine, she told herself. She had spent enough time here that not everything reminded her of her father anymore.

She didn't miss Meg's glance when they passed the hospital where he had died.

"You okay?" Meg said eventually after Christine had been quiet for a while.

"Yeah. Yes," she repeated a little more surely. "I'm fine. It's just… a little jarring, I guess, coming back and seeing all these places. It always is. But it shouldn't be, right? Not at this point. I've spent so much time here. We come back here all the time. And once I'm here it's not so bad. It's just coming back that's kind of… weird."

"It makes sense that it would be jarring," Meg said gently. "It feels like you've been away and have been moving on with your life, and then all of a sudden you're surrounded by all these memories again."

"That's exactly it. Like there's normally some distance between my life now and… and that time. But when I come back here and see all these places where we spent his last months, it all seems so fresh again. I wonder if that will ever go away."

"I don't know if something like that _could_ go away completely," Meg sighed. "But I'm sure it will keep getting better over time. It has been getting better, hasn't it?"

Christine smiled a little, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It has. You're right."

Mrs. Giry was waiting for them to arrive, and she hurried out to greet them when they pulled up in front of the house, her normally stern face breaking into a warm smile. The older woman carried herself with a well-practiced grace and poise, her posture always perfect, her elegant face hardly showing any signs of her age, and her dark hair always in a neat bun. She was astute and demanding, keeping both Meg and the young girls she instructed focused and in line. Christine remembered finding her intimidating when they had first met, and while Mrs. Giry _could_ certainly be intimidating, she had a kind heart and was fiercely caring toward Meg and Christine. She had taken Christine in without hesitation and had treated her like a daughter ever since.

When Christine and Meg had first become friends, they had joked that maybe Christine's dad and Meg's mom would fall in love and they would be sisters. And while this romance had never developed, they had become a family of sorts for a short time. Everyone got along, and with Meg and Christine rapidly becoming so close, they had ended up spending quite a bit of time together. During the summer, just before everything had fallen apart, there had been many long nights of movies and ice cream and music. It had been the first time that Christine had felt that there was someone permanent in her life other than her father. Even then, she knew that Meg and Mrs. Giry would always be around. Then once her father had been diagnosed, Mrs. Giry had taken it upon herself to oversee everything—she made meals and kept track of doctor appointments and made sure that Christine hadn't stopped doing her homework. Christine didn't think she could have made it through her father's death if Mrs. Giry hadn't been there to take care of her.

"It's good to have you both home again," Mrs. Giry greeted, wrapping them each in a hug. "How was your drive? I don't understand why you would wait to leave until this morning— wasn't everyone leaving this morning?"

"Don't look at me," Christine said. "I thought the same thing."

"But I wasn't ready to go last night," Meg defended. "Besides, traffic wasn't too bad once we got out of town."

"Maybe next year we'll finally have the timing down," Christine laughed.

"Well I'm glad you made it," Mrs. Giry said.

Christine followed Mrs. Giry and Meg up the walk to the house, duffle bag slung over one shoulder and a sense of ease settling over her at the familiar environment. She remembered expecting, when she had first moved in, that the welcoming, comforting nature of the house would have just the opposite effect; the house, though modest, stood in stark contrast to the string of dingy, bare apartments that she had inhabited with her father, and she had feared that it would serve only as another reminder of what she had lost.

And, true, it took a while for her to start to feel settled there. The walls of her bedroom—previously a sparsely decorated guest room that had been hastily converted for her—remained mostly bare. Almost everything that displayed her personality or held any sentimental value had gone with her to college: photos, the colorful quilt that her mother had made, most of her books, the beat-up guitar that she and her father had bought on a whim from a garage sale. She had left a few little things behind for when she came back for vacations, as if to remind herself that this place was more of a home than any other place she'd ever lived. But ultimately she found that the precaution was largely unneeded. Living here with Meg and Mrs. Giry felt natural, even when the majority of her possessions were back at the apartment. It might not exactly feel like home, but it certainly felt close to it.

Christine slept deeply that night, waking languidly to the sound of Mrs. Giry bustling about the house. Her limbs were heavy but her mind was clear after a significantly more restful night than she'd had for most of the semester. She even let herself doze off again for a while longer, having nowhere to be that morning and confident that, though she had plenty of schoolwork to do over the break, there was enough time to justify the rare indulgence of sleeping in. She woke again to the sound of a car pulling out of the driveway—probably Mrs. Giry leaving to run errands—and made herself sit up and stretch, forcing the last remnants of sleepiness to clear.

As she shuffled her way downstairs to pour herself a bowl of cereal, it occurred to her that Meg and Mrs. Giry would hear her practice while she was here. The thought made nerves pool in her stomach even though she knew there was no reason that she should feel like this. They had heard her sing plenty of times before, and she'd sung a little bit around Meg since she'd started her lessons. But there was such a difference in her voice now. She was sure they'd both be surprised by how much she'd improved. It wasn't as if her lessons or her advancement had been kept secret, but up until now she and Erik had been the only witnesses to the full extent of her progress. The idea of sharing that with someone other than Erik felt a little strange, as if those hours in the practice room had existed in their own universe, detached somehow from reality. The thought of sharing the effects of those lessons outside that private little world made her oddly self-conscious. But, she supposed, if the goal was that she would someday sing for an audience, this was a good first step.

She practiced in her room that afternoon, carefully working through each of her scales and exercises before turning to the songs that Erik had given her. She was pleased to find that her practice went smoothly, though, of course, it didn't compare to her lessons, and she was sure to make notes of what she wanted to ask Erik about. It felt like it had been ages since she had seriously practiced without his guidance. There had been a few times during the semester when she had slipped into the practice rooms over a weekend to go over some choir music or something relatively inconsequential that didn't seem worth taking to Erik, but for the most part their morning lessons had provided more than enough practice. She found that she didn't stumble and stutter through pieces with the same uncertainty that she had before their lessons; she made her way through difficult passages with more patience and confidence than she had anticipated, as if adopting Erik's attitude in his absence. Practicing alone like this now just made it even more obvious how much she had to thank him for.

When she had finished practicing she headed back downstairs to where Meg and Mrs. Giry sat in the kitchen. Her nerves from earlier had vanished, and she found that she was actually eager to see their reactions. She found them at the kitchen table with a plastic binder full of recipes open between them as they planned who would make what that week. They both looked up when they heard Christine coming down the stairs. Meg applauded, making Christine laugh embarrassedly, while Mrs. Giry smiled approvingly.

"You sound wonderful, Christine," she said. "You've made a lot of progress this semester. I'm glad this new teacher seems to be working out."

"If only Erik knew what a high honor it is to have impressed Mom," Meg grinned. "But really, Christine, you sound amazing. I mean, you've always been amazing, but _now_…"

"Thanks," Christine said, blushing a little at their praise. "It's good to know that you can hear such a big difference. It feels like a huge difference to me, but sometimes the change isn't as obvious to other people as it feels with things like this. It's nice to know that all this work is paying off."

"It really is," Meg told her.

"You should be proud of how hard you've worked and how far you've come," Mrs. Giry said, adding gently but assuredly, "Your father would have been very proud of you. I know we are."

Christine blinked back the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. "Thank you," she said, the words seeming to fall short after such a meaningful sentiment.

Mrs. Giry understood, though, and only nodded and smiled with her characteristic reserve.

Christine spent the rest of the day in a kind of dream, not exactly detached but more feeling like she was in two places at once. Her father's memory was never far from her mind, especially when music was involved, and it seemed even more present here, where he had actually _been_—where he'd spent the last months of his life. He was the one who had driven her to this house for the first time, insistent that, despite her age, he should meet the mother of this new friend she kept talking about. He and Mrs. Giry had sat there in the living room talking while Meg and Christine giggled in Meg's room, both a little embarrassed by their parent but too close to them to really resent their involvement. The four of them had even sat around that kitchen table eating dinner together. A few blocks away was where they would go every Wednesday evening that summer, waiting in a line long enough to snake out of the little ice cream parlor for buy-one-get-one-free night. Just beyond that was the little apartment that she and her father had shared. Everything that had happened during the final months she'd had with her dad, good and bad, all of it was here.

And it wasn't that being away at school allowed her to escape those memories, or that she even _wanted_ to escape them. It was just an odd feeling—the feeling that two separate parts of her life were coming together. Not odd in a bad way. Just odd.

There was a story that her father used to tell her that she hadn't thought about it in a long time. He'd told her innumerable stories over the years, weaving together events from his childhood and her mother's, fairytales, local folklore, anything he could think of to satisfy Christine's insatiable appetite for his stories. Many of them had blurred together and had become hazy in her mind in the years since; her favorites remained mostly vivid, but she had pushed them to the back of her mind after his death when it seemed that everything in the world was determined to remind her of the loss. She wasn't quite sure what it was that made her think of the story now.

The story had been about an angel of music who would visit those who were lucky enough and talented enough. Anyone who heard someone visited by the angel would always know by the touch of divinity in their music. Christine would always ask her father if he had been visited by the angel, and he would smile a little sadly and say that he hadn't yet, but that he was sure she would be someday. And then she would promise to be very good and try very hard so the angel would come.

She wasn't sure what had made the story come to mind, but, as silly as it felt, she couldn't help but think of Erik.


	11. Chapter 11

The rest of the semester passed in a blur of activity, and before Christine felt like she had even had time to breathe there were only a few days left. Most of what she had to do for finals had happened the week before, so she was left with a few strangely peaceful days to run out before winter break. It was nice to finally have some time that wasn't as hectic and stressful as so much of the semester had been, but there was just enough left to do that she couldn't fully relax yet, and those in-between days left her feeling restless.

Her lessons, at least, relieved this feeling for a while. With her schedule easing up in these final days they had been able to work a little longer than usual, and Christine was grateful for the extra time. Her audition was quickly approaching, and especially given the stretch of time between now and then when she wouldn't have lessons, the little added time to work was more than welcome. But as long as she was in that practice room, Erik's melodious voice calmly instructing her, her nerves about the audition were kept at bay. His patience and unwavering belief that she would do great things balanced her apprehension, and while she knew that that alone would not make up for any confidence that she lacked, it would at least help her stand a little taller and hold her head a little higher when the day of the audition finally came. And honestly, although she was still a little nervous, every day that they worked made her a little surer that this was something she could do. She couldn't believe how much she'd improved over the course of the semester, and if that much was possible, couldn't this be, too?

They had fallen into an easy pattern with their lessons—Erik would first run her through warm-ups and some technical exercises, then whatever smaller pieces he was having her practice, and then the score of _Candide_ itself. If any other teacher had been so precise and demanding, Christine was sure she would have grown frustrated or bored long ago. But there was something about working with Erik, some kind of kindred thinking between them; they shared passion and a vision, and although Christine couldn't see the entire path leading to their goal, she could see enough of it to be sure that Erik was leading her exactly where she needed to go.

The final notes from the piano faded with the faint echo of her voice, and she grinned as Erik turned and gave her a nod of satisfaction. The notes came naturally, and the passages that had tripped her up a few weeks ago now flowed easily. It wasn't quite as polished as she would have liked given how little practice time she had left with Erik before the audition, but it was good.

"You've come quite a long way," Erik told her, echoing her thoughts. "You should be very pleased. I am."

"Thank you. I am really happy—there's no way I would have believed I could come this far in just a few months." Christine hesitated before adding a little anxiously, "Do you think I'm ready?"

"For the audition? Absolutely. You're very well prepared, Christine. You just can't make yourself nervous."

She laughed a little at this. "_That's_ easier said than done. I know I shouldn't really be nervous, and it's not like I've never auditioned for anything before, but this just feels important. This is the first audition I've _really_ cared about since my audition for the program, and I at least want to know that I'm genuinely giving it all I can. It makes me a little nervous that we'll only have a chance to meet a few more times before the audition."

"If you would like, I'm happy to meet with you before the semester starts," Erik said. "That is, if you don't mind giving up some of your vacation."

Christine immediately perked at the idea of some extra practice time, but she sighed when she remembered her plans with Raoul. "That sounds really great," she said, "but I'm actually going to be out of town. I kind of promised my boyfriend I'd come on this big trip with his family, and, I don't know, it's kind of a big deal…"

"It's fine, Christine," Erik replied quickly. "Like I said, you're well-prepared. But the offer stands if your plans change."

"Thanks," she smiled, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment she felt. "I really appreciate it."

Doing her best to shake the slightly disconcerting thought that she'd rather spend her vacation here in the practice room with Erik than with her boyfriend, Christine turned to slip her music into her backpack, exchanging it for a small package of red- and green-frosted cookies. Erik didn't strike her as a particularly festive person, but she'd felt like she should give him _something_, even if it was only a small gesture. Turning back to face him, she held out her offering to him and he looked at her with surprise, his hands pausing in the midst of gathering his things.

"I don't know if you celebrate Christmas or not, but I figured that most people like cookies, at least," she explained a little embarrassedly. "Unless you have a food allergy or something, which I probably should have asked about beforehand…"

"No, this is—" Erik accepted the little bundle, looking away but not quite able to hide the smile creeping onto his lips. "Thank you. This is very nice."

Christine's smile widened at the quiet, sincere thanks. "You're welcome. I hope you enjoy them."

"I, ah, actually have something for you, too," he said shyly, shifting a little. "For Christmas."

"Erik, you didn't have to get me anything," she told him. "You've already been giving me lessons."

"I've told you before that you are not indebted to me for the lessons," he replied. "I wanted to get you something. It's only something small." With that, he produced a small black box tied with a gold ribbon.

Christine accepted the box, looking curiously between it and Erik. "Thank you. It was really nice of you to think of me. Do you want me to open it now or save it for Christmas?"

"You may open it now if you wish."

Her expression softened at his nervousness. Even now, exchanging gifts, she couldn't see him being especially into Christmas. That he had thought to get her a gift meant that he had thought about her and had gone out of his way to be kind to her. He sometimes insisted when he praised her that he was not a kind person, but for as long as she had known him, he'd done nothing to make her believe that that could be true. She wasn't sure what she had done to earn such a good friend.

Slipping the ribbon off the box, Christine gently removed the lid to reveal the most delicate necklace she had ever seen. The only ornamentation on the thin gold chain was a tiny round pendant, no more than a few millimeters wide, with a clear stone set in it. It was simple and beautiful, and she was almost afraid to lift it from its resting place.

"Erik, it's gorgeous," she told him, a little stunned by such an unexpected gift. "I love it. It's perfect. Thank you so much."

"I'm glad that you like it," he said softly. "It seemed like it would suit you well."

Christine beamed, gently taking the necklace and fastening it around her neck. The tiny pendant settled in the hollow of her throat, and she looked back at Erik, sweeping her hair back out of the way. "How do I look?"

"Lovely." Erik held her gaze as he spoke, and she could feel a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said again. "I really love it."

Before he could speak, she was stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. She could feel his breath catch, but in a second he brought his hands to her back, carefully returning the embrace. He released her quickly, then, looking away as he stepped back.

"Have a nice vacation, Christine," he told her. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

"See you in a few weeks," Christine smiled. "Merry Christmas."

The afternoon drifted by as Christine packed up her things to head home. Meg was determined to leave immediately after she returned from her last final so they wouldn't make the same mistake twice and end up sitting in traffic again. Her bags were already sitting by the door, just waiting to be thrown into the car so they could rush out of town. When Meg did get back from class, there was a brief flurry of activity as they loaded the car and double-checked that they weren't forgetting anything important, though they always managed to leave something behind anyway.

They were just climbing into the car when Meg glanced over at Christine. "Is that necklace new?"

Christine's fingers rose to the little pendant and she wondered how Meg could have spotted such a subtle piece of jewelry so quickly in the midst of all that. "You know you're weirdly observant, right?" she said. "But yes, it is new. Erik gave it to me for Christmas."

"Hmm." Meg suddenly seemed very focused on starting the car, and Christine frowned.

"What?"

"I don't know, it just seems… it's more than I'd expect from someone who was my teacher," she said hesitantly. "I mean, I guess it's fine if you're okay with it, but…"

Christine thought for a moment. "I can see what you mean, but it's not like one of my professors or someone gave this to me," she said. "We spend a lot of time together, and I guess we've gotten close in a way. I think he just wanted to do something nice."

"You know him better than I do," Meg conceded. "Maybe that's it."

Christine could tell that Meg was holding back, but she decided not to press further. Of course Erik had only wanted to be nice, and he had given her a thoughtful gift. They were friends, and there was nothing wrong with friends giving each other gifts. She was sure it hadn't even occurred to him that the gift might seem a little _too_ thoughtful. But she knew him, and the gift didn't _feel_ inappropriate. Meg's reaction did make her wonder what Raoul might say, though.

She shook the thought from her head; she was making this into a far bigger deal than it really was. Raoul knew that she and Erik were friends. There shouldn't be any problem.

* * *

Raoul made his first visit to the Giry house the day before Christmas Eve. He had been the one to suggest the visit, and Christine had been both excited and nervous since then. It wasn't like Mrs. Giry was unfairly harsh, but she was a stern, straightforward woman who could be intimidating in any circumstance, much less when it came to ensuring the welfare of her daughters. Raoul was confident in his ability to charm her, assuring Christine that, even if for no other reason, Mrs. Giry would like him because of how much _she_ liked him.

"You clearly don't know Mrs. Giry," Christine had told him when he'd suggested this. "She's not the kind of person who will pretend to like someone more than she does just to spare feelings. She's always polite, but she lets Meg and me know what she really thinks."

"What do you think she won't like about me?" Raoul had asked with a chuckle and a teasing grin. "Should I be offended by what you think about me?"

"I don't mean it like that," she had laughed. "I just hope you get along well."

"We will, Christine," he had told her. "You have nothing to worry about."

Christine wasn't exactly _worried_ by the time Raoul arrived at the house, but she suspected that Raoul underestimated just how intimidating Mrs. Giry could be. Tall and lithe, the woman carried herself with the grace and discipline that years of ballet had instilled in her, observing everything with the same alertness that kept her students—from wildly energetic children to headstrong teenagers—in line. A stern look and a subtle shake of her head had subdued many a misbehaving person. She wasn't one who could be easily won over with a charming smile; her liking was genuine but was only given when well deserved, and her respect was even more difficult to earn.

She quickly emerged from the kitchen when Christine invited Raoul inside, looking him over with appraising eyes and a smile that was unforced but not overly warm. Raoul stepped forward and shook her hand, returning her smile assuredly.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Giry," he said.

"It's nice to meet you as well," Mrs. Giry replied. "Christine has told me a lot about you. Please come in. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

Christine followed Mrs. Giry, leading Raoul into the living room and sitting down on the couch while Mrs. Giry took the chair across from them. Christine pressed her lips together to keep from laughing to herself when she saw Raoul move to take her hand but stop and settle back into his seat when he caught Mrs. Giry's gaze. There was nothing hostile in the exchange, but apparently he _was_ finding her more daunting than he'd expected.

"Christine tells me you're applying to law school," Mrs. Giry said, and Raoul nodded.

"Yes, it's been a tough semester dealing with that on top of my course load," he said. "But I've worked hard and I'm pretty optimistic."

"It sounds like it's been a busy semester for both of you, then."

"It has been," Christine replied. "I think we're both very happy to be on vacation now. Last night I actually got eight consecutive hours of sleep for the first time since Thanksgiving and I feel like a new person."

"I'd say I'm ready to graduate in the spring, but I'm just going on to an even harder few years of school, so I don't know how excited for that I can really be," Raoul said with a laugh.

"And from there you're planning on joining your family's firm?"

"That's right."

Mrs. Giry nodded, though Christine couldn't tell if it was in approval or just an acknowledgement. "Christine says the two of you have known each other for quite a long time."

"Yeah, we met when we were kids," Raoul replied.

"It was that summer when Dad and I lived in that little cottage by the beach," Christine said, smiling at the memory. "We lost touch after that summer but just happened to run into each other at the beginning of the semester."

Again, Mrs. Giry nodded. Their conversation didn't progress much further before she had to leave for her studio, though, and she said goodbye to Raoul with the same politeness she had greeted him with, saying that it was very nice to meet him and she hoped to see him again soon. Christine had to admit that she had been hoping for a slightly warmer response, but at least Mrs. Giry didn't _not_ like him. She'd only like him more the more she got to know him.

"So, how was that?" Raoul said lightly after Mrs. Giry left. "I didn't feel like that went too badly."

Christine laughed. "No, I thought it went well. She likes you. I think she just wants to keep you on your toes."

"She does have a very commanding presence," he agreed. "I'd hate to be the kid who's acting out in one of her classes."

"None of the kids in her classes act out," Christine replied with a playful smile. "They all know better."

Raoul looked around the quiet house. "Meg's not here?"

"No, she's out with a couple of her old friends from ballet."

"Well, good. There's kind of something that I wanted to talk to you about."

Christine turned to face him more squarely, sobering a little at his serious tone. "What is it?"

Raoul paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully. "Do you ever think about getting married?"

She watched his face, expecting him to give her a lighthearted smile but instead finding his expression thoughtful. The question felt sudden, but he had asked her so seriously. This clearly wasn't meant to be a light discussion about a distant, hypothetical future. No, his expression made her think that he was looking at this in far more concrete terms, and she wondered how long he'd been thinking about this.

"I guess so," she said with some hesitation. "I mean, I think it's something that I'd like to do eventually, but it still seems like it's kind of far off."

Raoul straightened, steadily meeting her eyes. "Well, I've been thinking a lot about how I'll be graduating in a few months and then going off to law school while you have another year here." Christine opened her mouth to interject, but Raoul help up a hand to stop her. "Now, I know that getting married then would be impractical, with you living here and me halfway across the country. But I was thinking that I'd like to be engaged before I leave."

He paused, waiting for Christine to react. She was beginning to feel like she was trying to catch up in a conversation that had started without her, and all she managed was a small, "Oh?"

That was all the encouragement he needed to continue. "Yeah, so, you know, we'll be committed to each other even when we're doing long-distance. You can finish your degree, and then we could get married that summer and you could move out and join me. It would all work out perfectly."

Christine hesitated, struggling a little to sort her thoughts into cohesive questions. "Do you think that we wouldn't be committed to each other if we weren't engaged?" she asked.

"Of course I don't think that," he said. "But wouldn't it be nice if we could make our relationship a little more official? I know I'd feel better about living so far away from you if people recognized you as my fiancée rather than just my girlfriend."

She wasn't sure the reasoning sat well with her but decided to move to her next thought anyway, still trying to catch up with him. "I don't know, Raoul. We'd be getting engaged after dating for less than a year. And it's been great, of course. I love you and I'm so happy with you, but don't you think it seems just a little soon? And then, what, we see each other a few times over the year that we're engaged, and then we just get married and I drop everything to move to where you are?"

Raoul gave a little laugh. "What do you mean, 'drop everything'? It's not like you have all that much here that you'd be giving up." Christine frowned, and he continued quickly. "Don't get upset. I didn't mean it like that," he said placatingly. "But think about it: all you really have here are Meg and Mrs. Giry. I'm not tearing you away from your childhood home, and it's not like you have all these amazing career prospects here that you'd be giving up."

"Meg and Mrs. Giry are my family," Christine told him. "They're all the family I have."

"But be reasonable, Christine. Do you really want to live no more than an hour or two from here for your entire life?"

"Maybe not. But if I do move, I'd like to have some say in the matter."

"Christine—" Raoul began, but she shook her head.

"I think we should talk about this later," she said. "It's a lot to think about."

"You mean you haven't thought about our future at all?" Raoul asked, hurt mixing with the lingering annoyance in his voice.

"Of course I've thought about our future. Just apparently not in the same terms you've thought about it. You kind of just sprung this whole life plan on me, and I need a chance to think about it."

Raoul sighed. "Fine. But for the record, I don't think that there's really much to think about. We love each other, and I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why not make that commitment sooner rather than later?"

Christine took a deep breath, gathering her frazzled thoughts. That was exactly the problem—there was nothing to think about for him. They would be together, and he would go to school and continue down his path exactly as he would if she wasn't in the picture. Her life was the one that would be taken down a completely different path. Her life would have to conform to his plans. And, true, it wasn't like she had career prospects here or anywhere else in particular that she was trying to pursue. She really didn't have a plan at all. But right now she had the freedom to do what she needed to do to start her own life, and she wasn't sure she wanted to constrict that so soon.

She loved Raoul, and she did want to be with him, but marriage just wasn't something she had counted on in the near future. But if Raoul wanted it as much as he seemed to… she would need to consider it.


	12. Chapter 12

Christmas morning with the Girys was always a festive affair. It was never extravagant by any means—they were better off than Christine and her father had ever been, but they certainly weren't wealthy—but there were always gifts waiting under the tree, and Mrs. Giry would make a breakfast that would have been too big for the three of them even if they hadn't been picking at the Christmas cookies all morning. The same two Christmas albums were always playing quietly in the background as they ate and exchanged gifts, and there was always plenty of laughter.

The afternoons were when things eased into a quiet, peaceful lull. Meg put on a movie while Mrs. Giry went upstairs to take a nap, and Christine settled in on the couch beside Meg with the new book she had received that morning. Her thoughts began to drift back to her conversation with Raoul, though, and the words on the page failed to hold her attention. After a while she caught Meg glancing at her.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" Meg asked. "I'm pretty sure you haven't turned a page in like twenty minutes."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Christine replied. "Just thinking."

"About what Raoul said?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

"That's understandable—it's a pretty big thing."

"I just feel like…" Christine hesitated. "I feel like the idea of getting engaged is something I should be really excited about, but I'm just not quite getting there, and I don't really understand why. The life that he sees for us definitely isn't bad, and it's not like I have other plans. I kind of assumed we'd stay together anyway, so what would be the harm in getting engaged if he wants it so badly?"

"'What's the harm' probably isn't the level of enthusiasm you should have going into an engagement," Meg pointed out. "I think that if it was something you really wanted, you wouldn't have to convince yourself it's a good idea."

"But Raoul wants it, so I need to at least consider it." Christine sank back into the cushions. "I _want_ to want it. Why don't I? Is there something wrong with me for not wanting to get engaged to my amazing boyfriend?"

"Of course not," Meg said. "There's nothing wrong with it. You don't have to want everything that he wants."

"This is a pretty big thing to disagree on."

Meg reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. "Don't worry about it too much. You have a whole semester before he wanted to get engaged anyway. Maybe by then you'll want to, or maybe he'll have changed his mind. You have plenty of time to think things over and talk about it with Raoul more."

Christine smiled a little. "Yeah, you're right."

Meg's brow furrowed. "Is there something else?"

Christine hesitated. "I know it's terrible, but I don't really want to go on this trip. If it was just the two of us, that'd be one thing. But it'll be with his whole family, and I have a hard time imaging any of them really want me there if they feel the same way his aunt does. At best, they'd be completely uninterested in me."

"Yeah, they don't exactly sound like a super welcoming bunch," Meg said with a sympathetic smile. "I still can't believe she said all that about you."

"I wasn't supposed to hear it."

"That doesn't mean it was okay for her to say it."

"And then on top of that, I feel like things could be a little weird between Raoul and me since we left things on a pretty uncertain note the other day," Christine continued. "It's definitely not a conversation I want to continue while on vacation with his family." She looked down, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "When Raoul suggested this trip, I thought that maybe things wouldn't be as bad as I worried they might be. But, honestly, as it's gotten closer, I've started to dread it a little bit. How awful is that?"

"It's not bad," Meg said, pausing to choose her words carefully. "It might not be as bad as you think. It could be that the lunch that you had with his aunt was just an unpleasant anomaly and everyone else in the family will love you. But, on the other hand, Raoul hasn't exactly been saying that his aunt is the outlier, has he?"

Christine shook her head, remembering how Raoul had defended his aunt.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Meg told her. "I mean, if it's just going to be a week of people making you feel bad about yourself interspersed with a few nice moments with Raoul, maybe you shouldn't go."

"I've thought about it," Christine admitted. "But I said I would go. They're expecting me. It definitely wouldn't make them like me more if I canceled on them at the last minute."

"That's true. I just wish you weren't going to be spending a week trying to make a bunch of people who think you're inferior to them like you."

Christine gave her a small smile. "I appreciate that. Maybe you're right—maybe I should rethink it."

"Just sleep on it," Meg suggested. "See how you feel about it tomorrow, and if you decide not to go, call Raoul then. That would still give them a couple of days' notice. And if you're just honest with him, I'm sure he'd understand. He wouldn't want to make you go if you're just going to be uncomfortable and belittled."

Christine nodded, although she wasn't completely sure that that last part was true. That would only be the case if Raoul thought it was reasonable for her to feel that way. "You're a good advice-giver, you know that?" she said instead of voicing this concern.

"I get it from Mom."

Relaxing back into the cushions and trying to return her attention to her book, Christine felt a little better at least, even if the situation was still unsettled. She would push the matter out of her mind for now, she decided. She was on vacation, and it was Christmas, and she was home with her family; she wanted to enjoy it.

But then her fingers idly brushed the necklace she wore, and she thought with a pang of Erik. She was fortunate enough to be here sharing a nice Christmas day with the two people who mattered most to her in the world, but what about him? What if he was spending the day alone? Christine stood and reached for her phone, telling Meg she'd be right back before heading for her bedroom. When she was alone, she dialed Erik's number. He answered after a couple of rings.

"Christine." He sounded surprised, and she wondered for a moment if she shouldn't have called.

"Hi, Erik," she said. "I, um, just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas."

"Oh." There was a pause. "Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too." His voice was warm and familiar, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he didn't seem annoyed by the call.

"Did you say something, Erik?" a man's voice called from the background.

"Oh, sorry," Christine said quickly. "I didn't realize you had company. I can let you go if I'm interrupting."

"Believe me, Christine, your call is quite welcome. He's not so much company as someone who occasionally shows up at my home uninvited," Erik replied, raising his voice at the last sentence, presumably so the man could hear him.

"You wouldn't let him in if you really didn't want him there," Christine pointed out, smiling at the thought of what she imagined must be an odd relationship.

"He tends to come in on his own," Erik grumbled, clearly not ready to concede.

Christine laughed a little. "Well, I'm glad to hear that you have someone there. I was thinking about you."

"You were?"

She continued quickly, realizing how that must have sounded. "Yeah, I mean, it's no fun being by yourself on Christmas, and I know that you don't have family, and I guess I was just worried that you might be alone."

"You are kind to be concerned for me," Erik told her. "But I do not mind being alone. I've found that it's almost always preferable to the alternative."

"People aren't so bad."

"Not all of them." There was no mistaking the fondness in his voice as he said this, and Christine's smile grew. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him. It was strange to go even a week without seeing him when she'd spent almost every morning with him for months, and there was something quite comforting about talking to him now.

"I'm wearing the necklace you gave me," she told him, touching the delicate pendant that had dipped just below the neckline of her sweater. "I love it."

She had neglected to mention the necklace to Raoul, but it wasn't like she'd had the chance to during their conversation the other day. And besides, she reasoned, there was really nothing to tell.

"I'm glad to hear that. I had hoped you would like it. And have you been practicing?"

"I have. Meg and Mrs. Giry are very impressed. I think you've won over Mrs. Giry without even meeting her, which is quite an accomplishment," Christine said with a laugh. She hesitated for a second before adding more softly, "I miss our lessons, though."

"I do too," Erik said.

"And I've been thinking about what you said before I left, about how it would be good to come back early and get in some extra practice before the semester starts," she continued, feeling the words start to leave her mouth before the thoughts had even fully formed in her mind. "I think that's a good idea, if it's still okay with you. I'm not completely sure if I'm coming back early or not, but I can let you know by tomorrow. If the offer still stands, of course."

"I'd be happy to work with you as much as you want," he told her. "But I thought you had travel plans."

She had forgotten she'd mentioned her plans with Raoul. Shrugging before realizing that Erik couldn't see the action over the phone, she said, "I'm not sure that's going to work out."

"I see." There was another pause. "Just let me know what you decide. I'll be here if you return early."

"Thanks, Erik. I appreciate it a lot. I can't believe that the audition in coming up so soon. It feels like we've been working for such a long time, but it didn't seem like it would actually get here."

"I hope you're not nervous, Christine," Erik said. "I've told you before, you're very well prepared. You could have auditioned weeks ago and done just fine."

"I don't want to do just fine, though," Christine sighed. "I want to do as well as I possibly can. I want to do _great_." She heard Erik chuckle a little, the beautiful sound of it filling her with warmth.

"I'm glad to hear you say that. It's what I want too. I wouldn't have continued our lessons if you wanted anything less."

"I hope I don't disappoint you," she said.

"You won't."

She smiled. "I should probably let you get back to your friend now."

"It was good to hear from you," Erik told her, the warmth of his voice making a blush rise to her cheeks.

"It was good talking with you," she said. "Merry Christmas."

She could hear the soft smile in his voice when he spoke. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

"Well?" Erik turned to find Nadir watching him expectantly as he hung up his phone.

"Well what, Daroga?"

"It's quite rude to take calls when you have a guest, you know," he replied, passing Erik one of the drinks he had gone to pour as he walked past him to the couch. "You could at least say what was so pressing that it required your attention."

"I hardly see how who I talk to is any of your business," Erik said, sitting down in an armchair across from Nadir. "But because I know that you are annoyingly persistent, I'll save us both some trouble and tell you that it was Christine. My student," he amended quickly, suddenly feeling that the casual way he'd said her name implied more than he wanted Nadir to know.

"Christine?" Nadir raised a brow.

"She had a question about a piece I gave her to practice."

"She called you on Christmas day because she had a question about a piece she's practicing?" Nadir said skeptically.

"Yes," Erik replied. He had managed to avoid the subject of Christine almost entirely since he'd first told Nadir. He told himself that he liked his privacy, especially when Nadir started asking questions, and this was nothing more than his usual guardedness. This felt different, though, and he knew it. As much as he tried to convince himself that there really wasn't anything _worth_ concealing completely from Nadir, he knew that wasn't true. The proof was in the pleasant warmth that the sound of her voice had filled him with, the way his heart had started to race when he saw her number on the screen, the way that that hug hadn't left his thoughts for a moment in the past week. He did his best not to think about those feelings, not to name them, but he was at least sure that they were worth concealing.

"Erik, you know that it's alright to get along with someone," Nadir said. "If she called for reasons other than your lessons, that's fine."

"She wanted to wish me a merry Christmas," he admitted hesitantly after a moment.

"That was nice of her."

"It was. She's very nice."

"Do you enjoy teaching her?" Nadir asked, hoping that perhaps if he wasn't too direct he could get a sense of the situation.

Erik nodded. "She's dedicated and immensely talented. And I suppose we think alike, musically."

"You don't find it unpleasant being with her almost every day? You're not nervous about it at all?"

"No," Erik replied, his voice growing softer. "She's… she's kind and warm and… there's just something about her." Erik glanced up to find Nadir watching him and looked away again, shifting in his chair.

"It sounds like you like her." When Erik made no reply, he continued. "That's not a bad thing. Just… be careful, alright?"

"Be careful? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't get defensive, Erik. I only mean try not to expect too much from her. Even the best of people aren't perfect, and they're not always who we want them to be. Don't be too hard on her if she's not improving at the rate you want her to or if she does something you don't like, and keep in mind that just because she's kind to you doesn't mean—"

"Doesn't mean that she wants to be any closer to me," Erik finished, speaking the words as a simple statement and only feeling the slightest sting of bitterness as he did. "I am well aware of that, Daroga. I came to terms with my lot in life long ago. Honestly, it doesn't make sense to me that she would even want me to be her teacher."

"I've always found that people usually don't make much sense," Nadir said. "If she says she wants you to be her teacher, then believe her. I just… I would be careful about getting your hopes up for anything beyond that."

Of course Nadir was right. He didn't know that Erik had spent time with her outside of their lessons, that they had developed a friendship. But as far as Erik was concerned, Nadir didn't need to know. Such knowledge would undoubtedly only lead to more suspicion and scrutiny, which were not altogether lacking as it was. The last thing that Nadir needed was more cause to be concerned about Erik, and Erik didn't exactly relish the thought of Nadir seeing just how weak he'd become. Besides, if Nadir knew that they were already friends, perhaps he would also see that his warning to Erik had come too late.

He should not have bought her that necklace. He knew that; it was clearly an inappropriate gift to give to her as his student and was even outside the bounds of their burgeoning friendship. But when he had seen it, the first thought that had entered his mind was how the simple beauty of it would suit Christine perfectly. And then all he could imagine was the subtle glint of the chain around her neck and the tiny diamond pendant that would settle so perfectly in the hollow of her throat. He would simply put it in a different box so she didn't know just how excessive a gift it actually was. It had been an impulsive purchase—he had still been debating whether or not to give it to her during that last lesson—and it gave him an inordinate amount of satisfaction to know that she liked it that she was wearing it now.

And when she had hugged him he thought his heart had stopped. She was so small and warm, and he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. It had left him lightheaded, but in a pleasant way. It had taken all day for his heart to return to its normal pace, and just the thought of that moment had made it race again. He was in over his head. It wasn't supposed to be like this. When he had asked Christine to let him teach her, the absolute best-case scenario he had imagined was one in which they got along just well enough to work together—they would be compatible musically, but there would be nothing beyond that to complicate the situation. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might possibly desire more than that—not friendship, not more than friendship, not even polite but distant acquaintanceship.

But here he was, thinking of her constantly, looking forward to seeing her next, thinking that he would give anything to feel her arms around him again. If he had any sense of self-preservation, or even any _sense_, he thought, he would tell her that it was impossible for him to continue teaching her. He would put as much distance between them as possible and hope that she would move on with her life and forget him entirely. There was no way that this could be headed for anything but disaster. It was only a question of how long it would take to get there.

He hated when Nadir was right.

It wasn't long after Nadir had left for the night that Erik's phone rang again. He had retired to the music room and almost didn't hear the ringing over the piano. Glancing at the caller ID, he was surprised to see the name that hadn't left his mind all evening.

"Christine."

"Hi Erik," she replied, sounding a little shy this time. "Sorry for calling and interrupting your night again."

"You're not interrupting anything," he told her.

"I, um, just wanted to let you know that I'm coming back early."

It took a second for her words to sink in, and a smile formed on his lips. He'd get to see her again sooner than expected. They could, conceivably, work for as long as they wanted rather than being constrained by her busy schedule. Suddenly the empty days ahead of him seemed much brighter.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said.

"You are?"

"Not that your travel plans didn't work out, of course," he continued quickly, hoping that he hadn't offended her. "But I do think you'll feel better about the audition with the extra practice time. And I enjoy our lessons."

"I enjoy them too," Christine said, and his heart beat a little faster. "I'm planning on coming back on New Year's Eve, so I'll be free any time after that. Or we could even get together that day. Whatever works best for you is fine with me."

"We can meet that day. As long as you're coming back early, we might as well make the most of the time."

"That sounds great to me. Thanks again for offering to work with me like this. It'll be nice not to have to end the lesson abruptly so I can run off to work, even if it's only for a week."

"I'm looking forward to that as well," Erik agreed.

"Well, I'll let you go," Christine said. "I just wanted to let you know what I decided. I'll see you soon."

Erik wasn't sure that a statement had ever made him so happy. "See you soon."


	13. Chapter 13

Christine couldn't deny that she was glad to be back, even as guilt stubbornly nagged at her. She'd known quickly after she started thinking about it that she wanted to return to school early rather than go on the trip—speaking with Erik had erased the need for any further time to make up her mind—but it wasn't until the following day that she'd gathered the courage to call Raoul and tell him she wouldn't be coming.

"What? Why not?" he asked. "Is everything okay?"

For half a second she had wondered if it would be easier to fake some kind of more serious excuse, but she rejected the idea almost as soon as it occurred to her. She needed to be honest with Raoul. Even if it was harder now, it would be better in the end, she told herself. Or, at least, she would be as honest as she could be.

"I've been thinking a lot about it, and I think it would be best for me to go back up to school a little early," she said, nervously winding a stray curl around her finger. "I'm so sorry to cancel like this, Raoul. But my audition is right around the corner, and if I don't have this time to practice, I won't be ready for it. I've hardly had a chance to practice since I've been home. You know how important this is to me, and I just really need some time to focus on preparing." It was a flimsy excuse and she knew it, but she couldn't quite bring herself to tell Raoul about her concerns about how his family would treat her or where they would pick things up after their last conversation. It would only upset him to know those things, and she was sure he'd be upset enough with her as it was.

There was a pause. "So you're blowing off our trip to get in a couple of extra singing lessons."

Christine winced. "I'm so sorry, Raoul, I really am. But I know I'll regret it if I don't put all that I can into this audition. I've been putting in so much work already, and it would be so disappointing not to do as well as I could have. Besides, it wasn't really going to be _our_ trip, was it? We'd have some time together, but I'd mostly just be inconveniencing your family."

Raoul started to say something but stopped abruptly, sighing. It was a second before he spoke, his voice a little softer than before but still tense. "I don't want to fight about this."

"Neither do I," Christine told him. "I really, really don't. I'm sorry. I know it's a sucky thing for me to say yes to this and then cancel at the last minute. But…"

"But this is really important to you," Raoul finished. "I know. I just wish I could understand."

"Thank you for trying, at least." Another pause. "I know you're disappointed. I don't blame you for being upset with me. Is there anything I can do to make it up for you? I can pay you back if you had to book an extra hotel room or anything. Of course, you might have to accept it in installments of fifty cents a month," she added, trying to force some lightness into her tone.

"No, don't worry about that. I'd assumed you'd just share my room," Raoul said, and Christine felt another stab of guilt at the disappointment in his voice. When she didn't say anything for a moment, he went on. "I guess I'll talk to you later, then."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later." As she ended the call, she wondered how it was possible to feel terrible but at the same time relieved. She felt awful knowing that she'd upset Raoul, but if she thought about it—thought about how things might have gone if she'd decided to go on the trip instead—she knew that she didn't really regret the choice. She would have been unhappy on the trip, surrounded by people who viewed her unfavorably even as much as Raoul insisted they didn't, and that would have only added to the tension between them right now. It would be fine this way, she told herself. The worst part was over. And maybe it would even be good for them to have this little bit of time apart. By the time classes started and they saw each other again, they would both be refreshed and refocused. There would be some time for things between them to settle. Everything would be fine. Everything _was_ fine.

And so, after repeated assurances from Meg that she didn't need the car and that Mrs. Giry was perfectly happy to drive her back up to school in a week, Christine headed back to their little apartment, her excitement overcoming her guilt as it sank in that she had an entire week to devote to working on music. It seemed like an impossible luxury.

She had a little bit of time to unpack her things at the apartment and pick up a few groceries before leaving for the music building. It was strange to be there when it was so deserted. Her muffled footsteps on the industrial carpet were the only noise as she made her way down the halls, and she found it a little eerie. But Erik was waiting for her in their usual practice room, and finding him there sent an unexpected rush of warmth through her; she had been gone for less than two weeks, but she had missed this.

"Hi."

His answering smile was warm and gentle. "Hi. Have you been enjoying your vacation?"

"I have, thanks." Christine stepped into the room and set down her backpack. "It was really nice to be home and have some time with Meg and her mom. And, of course, it was great to get caught up on sleep. But I'm glad to be back."

"I'm happy to hear that."

Christine smiled as she turned to get her music out; she'd made the right choice. They fell comfortably into their lesson, running through their routine even more thoroughly than usual now that there were no time constraints. It was far too easy to get wrapped up in the music, in Erik's careful instruction. Several hours had passed before Christine knew it and, tired but satisfied, she suggested they stop for the day. Erik agreed, apologizing for not keeping track of time, and she smiled and assured him that she was happy they didn't need to. They packed up and were heading around to the parking lot when Christine caught her first glimpse of the world outside.

Snow had started falling heavily and, judging by how thickly it had already piled on the ground, had been falling heavily for some time. The roads and sidewalks had grown slick with ice and slush and the storm showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. Christine sighed.

"Erik, I hate to ask, but would you mind giving me a ride home? There's no way Meg's car could make it three feet in this."

"Of course," Erik told her. "I don't mind at all."

With that, they pushed the door open and, greeted by a blast of icy air, headed out to Erik's car. Erik seemed steady enough on his feet, but Christine had only made it a few steps before she slid. Erik took her arm and steadied her and, laughing, she held onto him as she continued across the parking lot with careful steps. Both of them were half-soaked by the time they reached Erik's car.

It wasn't that she lacked faith in Erik's driving abilities. But every time she felt the car slide on the ice, every time the windshield wipers couldn't clear the quickly piling snow quite fast enough, every time a pair of taillights became visible in front of them a little too suddenly for comfort, her breath caught in her throat and her hands gripped fruitlessly at the edge of her seat. The normally short drive to the apartment took much longer than usual, and Christine breathed a sigh of relief when Erik finally pulled up in front of her building.

"Why don't you come in and see if you can wait out the storm," she suggested, glancing over at Erik. "You can't possibly drive anywhere else right now. At least wait until the plows have had a chance to clear the roads."

Erik considered for a moment before reaching over to turn off the ignition. "I suppose you're right. I will stay for a little while if you don't mind having me."

"I wouldn't have offered if I minded," Christine smiled before turning to the door, steeling herself to make the run between the car and her apartment. "Ready?"

Erik nodded. "Ready."

They opened the car doors simultaneously, though Erik was quickly by her side, and she took his arm again as they rushed to shelter. The wet snow caked in Christine's hair and had soaked though her jeans and coat by the time they burst inside. Erik didn't seem quite as affected, running a hand through his hair to dislodge the snow that had caught there and removing his long coat, hanging it to dry on an empty hook by the door. Christine was grateful—she had nothing for him to change into, and she would hate to force him to sit around cold and wet all evening. Shedding her drenched coat was not enough for her, though, as the fabric was thin and was hardly equipped to handle the snow.

"I'll be right back," she told Erik, heading to her room. "I just need to change. Make yourself at home."

Erik nodded, turning his attention to the apartment around him as her door clicked shut. It gave him some satisfaction to find that the surroundings felt familiar. It hadn't been all that long ago that he was here last, but it felt like things had changed so much since then. That had been the first night that they'd talked, really talked, like friends; it had been the first time he'd felt that rush of warmth and constriction in his chest when she was near. It had been the first time he'd really wanted to mean something to her. Now there was nothing that he wanted more, though he wasn't quite willing to name what exactly he did want, what exactly he felt. It hardly mattered anyway—he knew it was impossible.

Christine emerged from her room after minute, having toweled her hair dry and changed into leggings and an oversized sweater. She pushed up the sleeves that were falling down over her hands and grinned.

"I think I could go for some tea. Do you want some too? Or anything to eat?"

"Tea would be nice, thank you," Erik replied, content to stand back and watch Christine stretch up onto her tiptoes to reach the mugs. He'd given it some thought while she'd been gone and was resigned to allowing himself to enjoy her presence as much as possible. She would be gone soon enough, off to begin her career and be with her boyfriend, leaving him with only the memory of what it was like to feel happy around someone. Would it really be so bad to indulge in that happiness now? He wouldn't think about it; he would just be happy.

"I wonder when it's supposed to stop," Christine said, glancing out the window to see the snow still pelting down with no sign of letting up. "I knew we were supposed to get some snow, but I didn't realize it would be this much."

"Are you so eager to get rid of me?" Erik teased, making her laugh lightly.

"No, I'm not. But it'd be nice if I didn't have to dig Meg's car out from under three feet of snow tomorrow." There was a pause in her preparations as she waited for the water to heat. "So, what do you want to do?"

"I assumed you might have some ideas since you issued the invitation," he said amusedly.

She hummed thoughtfully. "We could sing."

Erik chuckled. "I would have thought you'd be ready for a break after such a long lesson."

"Yes, but that was a lesson," Christine said. "We could sing anything. We could sing duets! We haven't done a duet in quite a while, and you have such a beautiful voice. I love singing with you."

As if she needed to sell him on the idea of singing with her. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

She beamed. "Great."

The tea ready, she handed him a mug and hurried back to her room, returning after a second with a guitar—the same beat-up, too-big instrument she'd had with her that night at the Nightingale, Erik realized. She tuned it while sipping her tea, and it didn't take them long to find a few songs they both knew. Christine played a few chords, a little embarrassed to be playing an instrument she knew so little of in front of someone who she would be completely unsurprised to find out was far more proficient than she was. As soon as Erik sang the first few notes, though, any other thought vanished from her mind. There was only that rich, fantastically beautiful voice.

The moment when their voices combined, she almost forgot the words she was singing. She didn't think she had ever felt anything more completely _right_ than this. Their voices melded perfectly as if they had been doing this their entire lives, as if they had been made to go together. She met Erik's eyes and found them full of the same warmth and intensity that flooded through her. The song ended far too soon, but they quickly fell into another, and then another. Eventually the guitar ended up in Erik's hands, his skilled fingers coaxing much finer music from it than she could, and after a while longer his voice was the only one filling the small apartment. Christine sat back and closed her eyes, letting his voice seep into every part of her mind until it was all she was aware of. All of the troubles that had been tugging at her were forgotten as she relaxed. His voice was intoxicating; it felt like she was floating. The silence when he stopped felt abrupt, and she opened her eyes to find him watching her.

"Thank you for singing to me," she said quietly. "You have the most incredible voice I've ever heard."

Erik looked away a little embarrassedly. "Yours is an excellent match. I've enjoyed this."

Christine smiled. "Me too. We should do this more often."

"I would like that."

The evening passed easily and Erik didn't think he could remember a more pleasant time. He didn't think he had ever been around anyone who put him more at ease than her. Even Nadir, even with everything they had been through together—the bond they shared was deep, certainly, and as much as Erik hated to admit it, he did appreciate the relationship. But the long history they shared meant that Nadir knew things that unavoidably affected how he saw Erik. With Christine, there was none of that. He hardly felt like himself around her. All the years of pain and anger and loneliness lost some of their sting. It had grown dark outside by the time either of them remembered to check the weather again only to find that it hadn't cleared up much, though Erik hardly needed to be persuaded to stay longer.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Christine asked, standing and making her way to the kitchen. "I'm starving."

"I suppose I could eat if it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all." She opened the freezer, pulling out a frozen pizza. "Pizza okay?"

"Fine."

"I think we might have a bottle of wine, too." Christine shuffled through the cupboards for a moment before triumphantly pulling out a bottle. "Just to warn you, we only paid five dollars for this, so you might not want any."

Erik chuckled. "I'm sure I've had worse."

They quickly lost track of time, chatting over their meal and watching with a combination of interest and distaste the performances televised out of Times Square. Christine told him animatedly about the time when she was little and they had gotten completely snowed in, and her dad had had to pull her to the grocery store on a sled when they couldn't get the car out of the parking lot. She laughed about happy memories with her dad and then happy memories with the Girys, and he listened with amusement, enjoying the glimpses into her life. When their attention shifted back to a performance on TV, he asked her if she'd ever wanted to be on a stage like that, and she'd laughed and replied that she had always preferred the idea of performing on a smaller scale with less flash and considerably less lip-syncing.

His stomach clenched as the countdown started. Somehow, despite the utter impossibility of it, he couldn't completely suppress the thought of kissing her. It would be easy, the insane part of his mind argued persistently. He could just do it, just lean over and kiss her—just a quick peck on the cheek, something that could arguably be platonic. It was, after all, tradition to kiss at midnight, wasn't it? He could do it. If he was anyone else, he could do it.

Christine glanced up at him and smiled, and he wondered how horrified she would be if he kissed her. Sure, she seemed to like him well enough as a teacher and friend, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be disgusted if she saw his face, if she knew that his lips had touched her. Surely, she'd be upset to find out that he even _wanted_ to kiss her. It just wasn't possible. Imagining the softness of her skin as he caressed her cheek, the gentle pressure of her lips against his, would do him no good.

The crowd cheered on the screen as a storm of confetti rained down on them, and Erik met Christine's eyes. There was a pause, a flash of an expression he couldn't read across her face, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. But then she smiled again and glanced away, reaching for her wine glass and clinking it against his.

"Happy New Year, Erik," she said.

He returned her smile. "Happy New Year."

Christine's phone buzzed, then, and she turned to glance at the screen. "Sorry," she said, already standing and heading into her bedroom. "It's Raoul."

Erik nodded, fingers fiddling with his glass as he tried not to pay too much attention to her phone call.

"Hey. Happy New Year. …No, I'm not out, I'm just hanging out at the apartment." There was a long pause, and Erik noticed that she hadn't mentioned that he was with her. He pushed away the little voice that insisted that it was because she was ashamed of him. "That sounds fun. I'm sorry again about canceling, I just—…Yeah, it's going well. …I'll let you get back to your family, then. Have a good night. …Love you too. Bye."

Those last words stuck in Erik's mind, though he tried to ignore them, focusing on the excited crowds of people on the TV until Christine sat down beside him a second later.

"Sorry about that," she said again, taking a sip of her wine.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Erik replied. "I'm sure you wish you could be with your boyfriend on your trip tonight, and instead you're stuck here."

Christine's expression softened and she nudged his knee with hers. "Actually, I'm happy that I'm here."

He met her eyes and gave her a small smile. "I'm glad." She stifled a yawn, then, and it occurred to him that it was really quite late for him to still be here. "I should probably get going."

Christine shook her head. "Don't be silly. The snow only just stopped and I'm sure the roads are still a mess. Besides, I hate being out driving on holidays like this when everyone's been drinking. You can just spend the night here and head out tomorrow when the roads are clearer."

"I'd hate to inconvenience you."

"It's not an inconvenience at all," she told him. "I have plenty of extra blankets. I'll make up the couch for you."

Getting the sense that any further argument would go unheard—and he really didn't want to argue his way out of spending more time near Christine anyway—Erik busied himself cleaning up their dishes while Christine fitted the couch with blankets. After several apologies for not being able to offer him anything more comfortable to sleep in, each met with assurances that he would be perfectly comfortable as he was, Christine said goodnight and returned to her room, leaving Erik to settle in on the couch. It was too short for him to really stretch out on and squeaked at the slightest shift but, lying there wrapped in soft blankets that smelled faintly of Christine and knowing that she would be only feet away from him tonight, Erik had to admit that this was not the _worst_ way to begin the year.

* * *

Christine woke to find her room still dark, and her thoughts were sluggish as she wondered what might have woken her. She checked the time on her phone, blinking at the sudden brightness of the screen, only to find that it had barely been an hour since she'd fallen asleep—far too early to be awake again. Maybe there had been a noise that had stirred her, she thought, remembering that Erik was sleeping on the couch. Maybe he was awake and needed something. Rubbing her eyes to clear her vision, Christine reached over to turn on her lamp and then slipped quietly out of bed.

A sliver of light fell across the black mask when she cracked open her door, finding its wearer asleep. The wind outside had subsided and the apartment was completely silent except for the quiet hum of the radiator. Christine paused for a second to look at Erik; it was odd to see him so relaxed, so vulnerable. He looked just like any other sleeping person, she realized, and then she wanted to laugh at herself for the thought. Of course he looked like anyone else. Even for all his eccentricities, he was just a person.

Satisfied that he was sleeping comfortably, Christine began to turn back into her room when she noticed that the beam of light had broadened and now fell across…skin. With his face pressed into the cushions, the mask had become just a little bit askew, leaving a portion of his cheek exposed.

She knew that she should just ignore it, just turn around and go back to bed. She had told him that she would never try to see his face. That had been their agreement. But she couldn't deny that her curiosity had persisted since then, pricking annoyingly at the back of her mind. Perhaps just this little glimpse would sate her curiosity. She wouldn't have to wonder so much anymore, and Erik wouldn't know—no harm done. She wouldn't even see that much of his face, so, really, she wouldn't be breaking her promise. Part of her recognized the flimsiness of this argument, but it was so late and her tired mind was already set in its decision, uncaring of how poorly made this decision was.

Taking care not to make any noise, Christine opened her door just enough so that she could step out into the living room. A few cautious steps brought her just a few feet from Erik, and she leaned forward a bit to study what lay beneath the mask.

His cheek was hollow, covered with a tightly pulled and thin-looking layer of skin. It looked like there were some discolorations, some places where the raised lines of scars were visible. It wasn't _pleasant_, and part of Christine was a little relieved that she could only see a small portion of a whole that she could only imagine, but it also wasn't as terrible as she had feared. She had no urge to scream; it wasn't a sight that would haunt her nightmares. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure what she had been expecting. With nothing but her very limited knowledge of Erik's life to guide her—shunned by his own mother, led to choose a life of almost complete seclusion—her mind hadn't been able to conjure an image of a face that could possible deserve the kind of mistreatment he must have endured.

The thought of that mistreatment struck her with force, and she recoiled away from him as if she had been hit. Guilt and shame flooded her as she hurried back to her room, realizing too late what she had just done. Perhaps his biggest secret, something he kept hidden from the world, something that he had suffered because of, and she had taken it upon herself to look. But maybe the situation wasn't as bad as she was making it out to be, she tried to tell herself. She hadn't seen that much, and she hadn't reacted badly to it. Erik would never know that she had seen anything. He didn't have to know that she'd broken her promise, drawn in by the desire to see what could be so horrible that it needed to be hidden, as if Erik was a spectacle to be gawked at. She couldn't behave any differently around him in the morning, whether from the knowledge of what she had seen or from the guilt of having seen it. Everything would be completely normal, as if nothing had ever happened, and she would forget about this.

It took her a long time to quiet her thoughts enough to fall asleep again.


	14. Chapter 14

The semester began normally enough, though admittedly not without some anxiety on Christine's part. The long-awaited audition was finally upon her, and after that there would be a period of nervously waiting for the results, and after _that_, hopefully, would be the stress of rehearsals. Her class schedule wasn't quite as hectic as it had been the previous semester, and her new job at the library, while not exactly freeing up any of her time, at least promised a more consistent schedule. So she could make it through the semester even with the added pressure of rehearsals, she told herself. She was a little nervous about it, sure, but there was no use in making herself feel overwhelmed by something that she didn't know for sure was going to happen.

But then there was the matter of Raoul.

Christine had been anxious about seeing him when classes started. They had spoken on the phone, of course, but the conversations had been short and infrequent—not enough time to discuss anything of consequence, even if she had felt up to it. She didn't know if he was still angry with her for canceling their plans, though she knew she couldn't blame him if he was; what was perhaps even more worrying was that she didn't know if he planned to renew any discussion of marriage. She had realized with a jolt as she was waiting for him to pick her up for dinner that first night he was back in town that she had no idea where they stood. She didn't know if her actions had permanently altered the relationship, and she didn't know what she would say if Raoul brought up the subject of marriage again. She was just as conflicted as she had been right after they'd first talked about it, and she had no idea whether his thoughts on the matter had changed since then. He had sounded upbeat when they'd made plans for tonight, but it seemed to her that they had quite a few loose ends to tie up, and they hadn't left any of those subjects on a particularly positive note.

The dinner had ended up going fairly smoothly. Raoul had been happy to see her, and they kept their conversation light, just as they had over the phone. He didn't mention either subject, and she had been content enough to forget all of that for now and enjoy an otherwise pleasant evening. There was something underneath the pleasantness, though, and Christine was sure that Raoul must be aware of it too—just a little bit of strain, felt especially when they strayed a little too close to the subjects they were avoiding. Things weren't entirely uncomfortable, but there was a difference.

The first few days of the semester passed in a blur as she adjusted to her new classes, her new schedule, her new job. The one constant was her lessons and, Christine having determined to completely forget how she'd broken her promise to Erik, those proceeded just as they always had, much to her relief.

And then, all of a sudden, it was the day of the audition.

As she sat in the hall waiting for her turn, idly fiddling with her phone to keep her hands busy, she found that she wasn't nervous—not exactly. There were the usual nerves that came with the knowledge that in just a few minutes she'd be standing by herself and singing in front of a panel of people whose sole job it was to scrutinize her, but she was gratified to find that she felt prepared. She had worked hard, and she knew that she would honestly be able to say that she had put all that she could into this. That was as much as she could ask for, really; even if she wound up not being cast at all, at least she wouldn't be left wondering whether she could have done better if she'd put that last little bit of effort in. She had already determined not to let herself be too disappointed if she didn't get a role. That wasn't what was important about this—what was important was that she was trying again, that she was happy to be singing in a way that she hadn't been in years.

She hoped that Erik wouldn't be too disappointed if she didn't do as well as he wanted, but she dismissed the concern quickly. Erik had seen the work she had put into this audition and had been nothing but supportive the whole time. If she suddenly panicked and did poorly, of course he would be disappointed, but so far he had given her no reason to think that he would be disappointed with _her_.

Christine jumped a little when her phone buzzed, smiling when she found a message from the man she had just been thinking about. Erik's text was short and simple: _You will be amazing._ He didn't wish her luck or give any suggestion that this was just his opinion; he stated it as if it was a well-known fact, leaving her no room to question him. She sent him a quick reply just before her name was called and she was ushered into the room.

She went through the audition in an odd kind of haze. Her mind was too focused to leave any room for nerves. She sang her piece, and then it was over, and she was leaving the room with a rush of relief and satisfaction. Almost before she was aware of what she was doing, she was reaching for her phone and dialing. Erik picked up immediately.

"How did it go?"

"It went really well," Christine grinned. "I mean, I guess I don't know exactly how well it went just yet, but I feel good about it."

"Good. If you feel good about it, then I'm sure you were great. Besides, only a complete idiot wouldn't want to cast you."

She laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Hopefully their judgment is as good as yours."

"It's likely not, but anyone with any taste at all should be able to see your talent," Erik told her.

"It's nice having someone to call for an ego boost," she replied, making him chuckle.

"Believe me, Christine, I do not give praise when it is unearned."

Christine blushed a little. She certainly believed _that_. As supportive as Erik had always been, he hadn't coddled her. But that had always made his praise feel that much more rewarding, and the freeness of it now was more gratifying than anything anyone else could have said. "I hope I continue to live up to it, then," she said.

"You will."

There was a pause before Christine spoke again, unsure of what to say to such a compliment. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. I just thought you'd like to hear about how it went."

"And you'll let me know when you hear back?"

"If I get a callback, you'll be the first to know," she promised. "And Erik? I, um, wanted to thank you. There's no way I could have done this without you. All you help… it means a lot to me."

There was another pause and she hoped she hadn't made him uncomfortable. But then he spoke, his voice a little thicker than before, and she knew that he understood. "I am glad that I've been able to help you, Christine," he said softly. "It has meant a lot to me, too."

Christine smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, then?"

"Of course. See you tomorrow."

The conversation left her with a warmth that stayed with her until just a few hours later when her phone rang and she was asked to return for a callback. True to her word, she immediately called Erik, who insisted that it was no surprise that she had been asked to return but congratulated her sincerely. The next day she arrived at their lesson to find him waiting for her with a cup of hot tea, saying that they would take it easy today so she would be ready for her callback that afternoon. They ran through everything quickly, focusing on a couple of bits that Christine felt less confident about, and then he was sending her on her way again, reaffirming that she was well-prepared and had nothing to worry about.

The couple of days that followed were even more agonizing than Christine had expected as she waited to hear about the final casting. Erik did his best to keep her from worrying too much, but it seemed that now she was making up for not having been anxious after the initial audition. She would catch herself staring at her phone instead of her assigned reading or checking it obsessively during pauses in choir rehearsal. Both Meg and Raoul were quick to reassure her that they were sure she had done great and would hear back soon, but it was Erik's assurances that really grounded her.

They were in the middle of a lesson several days after the callback when her phone rang. She glanced questioningly at Erik and he nodded for her to answer it. Her attention remained half-focused on him as she answered the phone; he was watching her intently as if searching her expression for an answer she didn't have yet. But then the casting director told her her part and she didn't hear a single word he said after that. Meeting Erik's eyes, she found them alight and excited, a smile forming on his lips that must have mirrored her own. She managed to remember to thank the casting director before hanging up, and for a moment she and Erik stood facing each other, just grinning.

"I'm Cunegonde," she finally managed, her amazement clear in her voice. "Erik, I got the part!"

"That's fantastic, Christine," he told her. "You deserve it."

A little more carefully than last time, Christine stepped forward to wrap her arms around him, giving him room to move away if he wanted to. But instead he stepped towards her, seeming to welcome the embrace, returning it cautiously but a little more securely than before. She leaned into him for just a moment before pulling away slightly, letting her hands linger on his arms.

"Thank you so much, Erik," she smiled. "For everything. This is amazing. I can't thank you enough."

"You're not giving yourself enough credit," Erik told her. "It's all your talent and hard work. I did very little."

"That's not true," she insisted. "You've done so much. You've made me really love music in a way that I haven't in years. You've given me so much more confidence and motivation than I've ever had, and you've been so patient and encouraging. Thank you."

Christine held his gaze as she made this speech; he needed to know that she meant what she said. Her breath caught a little as she found him looking back with unmistakable affection. She wanted to stay this close to him, convince him that he meant so much to her, keep trying to find the right words to express her gratitude and happiness. She wanted him to keep looking at her like he was looking at her now.

The thought jolted her back into awareness and she realized that they had probably been standing like this for too long. Giving him a small smile, she let her arms drop from his and took a small step back. She tried to push the little pang of disappointment to the very back of her mind.

* * *

"I'd like to propose a toast," Meg said grandly, holding up her wine glass. Christine rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Meg, who glanced between her and Raoul as she waited to begin her speech. "Not that long ago, sitting in this very restaurant, we knew we had a star on our hands. And now what we've known for a long time has finally been officially confirmed. I think at this point it's safe to say that we know Broadway's next big star, and years from now we'll be bragging about how we knew her when she got her first major role."

"How long is this toast going to be?" Christine asked teasingly, and Meg held up a finger to quiet her with mock seriousness.

"Excuse me, I will not be rushed, especially when it comes to congratulating my amazing best friend," she said.

"Sorry. Continue."

"As I was saying," Meg went on, "we'll be able to talk about how there's no one more deserving of stardom than Christine Daae, how immensely talented she is and how tirelessly she works. And as much as I love being one of only a few lucky people who know just how talented she is, I've very excited that more and more people will know soon. Congratulations on getting the part, Christine. We're so happy for you."

"Here, here," Raoul said, holding up his glass.

Christine laughed, clinking her glass against theirs. "You both are too much. This is only a college production. It's not like I won a Tony."

"Maybe not, but it's still really exciting," Meg said. "And you really wanted this and have worked so hard to achieve it. That deserves some celebration, don't you think?"

"It is a big accomplishment, Christine," Raoul told her. "Not that we ever doubted that you could do it, of course."

Christine smiled and looked away, a little embarrassed. "Well, thanks, guys. And thank you for bearing with me while I've been getting ready for this. Now you just have to keep bearing with me through rehearsals and performances."

"I'm prepared for the life of the friend of a Broadway star," Meg replied unconcernedly.

"You don't plan on continuing daily singing lessons through rehearsals, do you?" Raoul asked, his brow furrowed.

"Yes, absolutely," Christine said. "I'll need them more than ever leading up to performances. There's only so much rehearsal time; I'm sure I'll have plenty of work to do outside of that."

"But how will you have time for all of that, plus classes and your job?" _And me_, was the unspoken question that Christine heard.

"I'll just have to make it work," she said evenly. "My course load is a little lighter than last semester, at least, and the new job is a lot better about letting you schedule your own hours, so I'll be able to schedule around rehearsals. I'll be busy, but what choice do I really have?"

Raoul resumed eating his dinner without another word, suddenly intently focused on the plate in front of him, and Christine felt a stab of guilt. Last semester hadn't exactly been easy all the time—there had been plenty of times when they'd really had to make an effort to schedule time together, and what time they did have often ended up feeling inadequate and unsatisfactory. A big part of what had helped them stay determined to push through was the promise that things would get easier, that they would have more time to spend together, more chances to really connect. A couple of months of rehearsals didn't seem like much to work around on its own, but it was just one more frustration that they would have to deal with. But it would be fine, she told herself. The semester would be no worse than the last one, and they had been getting better at finding time to spend together when they could. They'd work it out.

Raoul was quick to hide any disappointment he felt, and after a minute the comfortable conversation resumed. The rest of the evening was pleasant, and by the time they left, any guilt or disappointment was far from Christine's mind. She wasn't sure it had completely sunk in yet that she had gotten the role—that soon she'd get to perform on stage, and not just as a part of the chorus. For years she had dreamt of doing just that, but it had seemed unlikely given her lack of training, and then the dream had been all but abandoned after she lost her father. She had been so close to giving it up entirely when Erik had come along and pushed her back toward her true passion, and now here she was actually making progress toward that goal. She almost couldn't believe her luck at how quickly things had turned around. As tiring and stressful as the process had been and would continue to be, she was _excited_.

Raoul drove Meg and her back to their apartment after dinner, and Meg discreetly slipped out of the car ahead of them, allowing them a moment alone. Giving Christine a smile, Raoul leaned over the console to pull her to him, kissing her gently.

"You know I'm happy for you, right?" he said. "It'll suck to have to share the time I thought I was going to have with you, but I know how big this is for you."

"Thanks for understanding," Christine said. "I know we were looking forward to having a little more free time, but we'll still have plenty of time together, and the show won't last the whole semester."

"I was thinking that maybe I could come hang out at your rehearsals. Not all of them, obviously, but don't you think it'd be kind of fun? I'd get to watch you rehearse and we could see each other whenever you get a break."

Christine hesitated a little. "I guess you can come if you really want to," she said. "But it probably won't be as interesting as you're expecting, and I don't know how much of a chance I'll have to really get to see you."

Raoul waved his hand dismissively. "I'll be fine. I just want to take advantage of the chance to see you a little more."

"That's fine with me, then. But I still think it'll be less enjoyable than you imagine."

He leaned away a little, examining her face. "Why don't you want me there?"

"It's not that I don't want you there," she said gently. "Of course I want to see you more. I'm just not sure you realize that I'll be working at rehearsals. I'll be focused, even when I'm not involved in a scene. I don't know how much I'll actually be able to come sit and talk with you, and I'd hate for you to find that it's not what you expected and spend an evening just sitting there bored."

"Okay," Raoul said, his tone making it clear that it was not okay. "If you say so."

There was a pause and Christine looked at him. "Raoul, I said that you can come, I just wanted you to know what to expect."

"And I just think that you should want me there a little more," he replied. "You keep doing this, Christine. You keep prioritizing music over us."

"I'm not prioritizing rehearsals over you just because I have to go to rehearsals."

"You know what I mean. With canceling the trip so you could have your lessons, and now this—and you won't even make your lessons less frequent to give us more time. I'm clearly not the most important thing in your life."

"Why do you have to be the most important thing?" Christine snapped before sighing and rubbing her eyes. "Sorry. That's not what I meant. I'm trying. I'll do my best to make more time for us, but I can't promise to drop everything else I'm doing."

"Fine."

When he didn't say anything else for a moment, Christine moved to climb out of the car. She paused with her hand on the handle when Raoul spoke suddenly.

"I shouldn't _have_ to be important to you. I just should be."

Christine got out of the car without reply, a little too annoyed to assure him that he _was_ important to her, that that didn't mean there couldn't be other things that were also important. She doubted he'd really hear her anyway.


	15. Chapter 15

It was early Saturday morning when Raoul showed up at the door with two cups of coffee and a paper bag of sweet-smelling pastries, and it took Christine a moment to feel sure that this hadn't been a plan that she'd forgotten.

"Raoul," she smiled, stepping aside to let him come in. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too," Raoul said, pausing to give her a peck on the cheek. "I'd hoped that if I caught you early enough you wouldn't be busy. I figured I could bring by some breakfast and we could chat. You're not in the middle of anything already, are you?"

"No, and you know that I always appreciate breakfast," she said. "Thanks."

Settling down at the kitchen table, Raoul handed one of the coffee cups to her and pulled the warm pastries from the bag. They ate quietly for a minute before Christine spoke again.

"So you said you wanted to chat. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah, actually." Raoul shifted in his seat and looked at her hesitantly. "Do you feel like things have been kind of… I don't know, weird between us lately?"

Christine looked away. "Um, yeah. It does seem like things have been kind of off."

She couldn't help but feel a little relieved that the difference wasn't only in her own head, but Raoul hardly looked pleased, as if he'd expected assurance that no, nothing was weird and things between them were great. She almost wished she'd been a little less honest—at least then he wouldn't look so upset.

"Sorry," she continued quickly. "I didn't mean that I think things are _bad_. I think we're doing well. We just… I don't know. You had it right. Things feel a little weird right now."

"Do you want to be with me anymore?"

Christine started at the accusatory tone. Or maybe it wasn't accusatory, she reasoned. Maybe it was just worried. "Of course I want to be with you," she told him. "Do you think I don't?"

"No, I don't think that. It's just that…" Raoul sighed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Is he handsome?"

Christine's brow furrowed as she hesitated, trying to understand the question. "Who?"

"Erik," he said, as if she should have been able to easily follow the line of reasoning that led to his question. "Is he handsome?"

She sat for a moment, taken aback by the question and unsure of what to say. That Raoul would even ask seemed absurd at first, but as she thought about it she reasoned that perhaps his concern wasn't entirely unfounded, at least in his mind. She did spend a lot of time with Erik, and if Raoul felt that their relationship was on shaky ground, it wasn't completely irrational for him to worry that her affection might be drawn elsewhere. But had she never told Raoul about the mask? She was sure she'd told him at some point over the past few months. Then again, she didn't often talk about her lessons with Raoul.

Even as she reasoned that there was no logical reason for her not to tell him now, the thought of it somehow felt wrong, like she was exposing a secret to someone who might use the information maliciously. All of this flashed through her mind in a second, so quickly she had hardly processed the thoughts before she found herself speaking.

"Why would it matter if he's handsome or not?"

"Don't be obtuse, Christine."

"Do you not trust me?" she pressed, keeping her voice calm but firm. "Do you think that I would cheat on you if I found another person attractive?"

Raoul exhaled. "No, I don't think that. I just feel like I'm justified being concerned about my girlfriend spending significantly more time with another man than she does with me."

"I know that must be frustrating, and I'm sorry," Christine said. "But you have to understand that it isn't like that. He's my teacher. The time I spend with him is work. I understand where you're coming from, but you need to trust me. I'm with you, and I'm not going anywhere." It left her a little unsettled knowing that this wasn't entirely true. Erik was more than her teacher, and they had spent time together outside of their lessons. But that didn't really matter, she reasoned. It didn't change the fact that there was nothing between her and Erik that Raoul should be concerned about, and knowing would only make Raoul more upset.

"Well, you could stand to make that a little easier to believe," Raoul said. "I don't see all this effort you're supposedly putting into being my girlfriend. I'm clearly more invested in us than you are."

"That's not true, Raoul," Christine insisted. "I'm really sorry if I've given that impression, but it's not true. I love you and I absolutely want to be with you."

"You've done a lot more than give an impression. You canceled our trip, you're not sure about moving our relationship forward, and you don't make any attempt to set aside time for just the two of us. Half the time I see you, Meg's also there. I'm surprised she's not here now."

Christine shifted in her seat, looking away. He wasn't _wrong_, she knew, and the realization sent a wave of shame through her. But it wasn't like she was doing any of that to intentionally frustrate him or to set their relationship back, and she bristled a little bit at the idea that that was what he thought of her.

"I'm really sorry about the trip," she said. "I know, I shouldn't have agreed to go and then backed out at the last minute. That sucked. But I can't go back and do anything differently. Is there any chance that we could just move on?"

Raoul sighed. "Fine. It's forgotten. We're moving on."

Somehow Christine doubted the sincerity of this but decided not to push. "And I'm sorry that you feel like we don't have enough time together. I'll do my best to make more time for just the two of us. But you have to understand that there's only so much I can do. I know that the show will be eating up a lot of the time we thought we'd have, but getting this part is a really big deal for me. And it's experience that could really help me down the line when I'm doing this professionally. I know it's frustrating that this is just one more thing that's going to keep me busy, but what do you want me to do?"

"Isn't there _something_ you can give up to make me a little more of a priority?"

Christine rubbed her eyes. "It's not that you're not a priority. But I obviously can't drop the show or any classes, and I'm already working the absolute fewest hours I can and still afford to live. We've had this conversation before."

"What about your lessons?" Raoul asked, continuing quickly before she could say anything. "I know you've said you need them, but you can't possibly need them every day. I'm sure you could cut back a little."

She hesitated, knowing she couldn't really make him understand. Truthfully, she probably could take fewer lessons and get by okay. But she didn't want to just be okay, just good enough to get by—she had already done that for far too long, and now that she had been trying again, she couldn't imagine feeling okay about doing anything less. Besides, those mornings with Erik in their practice room had become her favorite part of the day. Even if they weren't so important otherwise, it would pain her terribly to cut back on them. But did that make her a bad girlfriend?

"I can't do that," she said softly.

"Why not?" he pressed. "You don't have an audition to practice for, and you've said that you've already been working on the score for the show. It seems to me like you don't really need the lessons anymore. Why couldn't you cut back to just once a week? You said you wanted to make more time for us."

"I do want that," she replied. "But my lessons are early in the morning before class anyway. That's not time we'd be spending together if I didn't have lessons."

"No, but you could use that time to study, or you could move your work schedule around so you're free in the evenings."

"Look, Raoul, I know it might be hard to understand, especially since you're not a musician or a performer, but having that practice time, having that help, makes such a huge difference—the kind of difference that will set me apart when I'm auditioning for the same part as a hundred other talented, pretty girls. I may have improved over the past few months, but that doesn't mean that there's no room to improve more."

"So your lessons and future career are more important to you than our relationship. That's good to know."

"Raoul, please, just stop and listen to me," Christine said, blinking back frustrated tears. They were just going in circles, she knew, but she didn't know what to say to get out of the pattern. "Yes, music and my future career are hugely important to me, and I'm not going to apologize for that. You of all people should understand what it means to value preparing for a career. But those things don't make our relationship less important to me. I want us to work. What can I do to make you feel better about all of this?"

"I keep telling you what you can do, and you keep saying no," he snapped. They were silent for a moment, and Christine closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.

"No, you keep asking for things that you know I can't give you. You won't—" she stopped herself; she didn't want to fight with Raoul, and she supposed that her frustration now wasn't entirely fair. She'd been about to say that he wouldn't compromise, wouldn't give her goals and desires as much weight as he gave his own, but maybe that was unfair of her to think. She hadn't exactly made things easy for them, but he'd stayed by her side anyway, supporting her in spite of the difficulties. Maybe she could put in more effort, could set aside more time for the two of them like he wanted. The thought stirred an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, a slight nagging that she should stand her ground, that maybe she was too ready to give in to try to make something work that just wasn't right. But she quickly buried that uncertainty. She wanted this to work. And there were plenty of times when she knew she had been at fault, when she'd been responsible for making things difficult. Didn't she owe it to Raoul to put all the effort she could into their relationship?

"Okay," she said eventually. "I think that you should come to my rehearsals if you still want to. That was a good idea. And no matter what, I promise I'll keep at least two nights a week completely clear for you. Not just nights when we study together or nights when Meg's around too—it'll just be time for the two of us to spend together. Would that help?"

Raoul looked down, fiddling with his coffee cup. "Yes, that would help."

"And I promise to let you know if I end up with some time during the day to grab lunch or coffee or something," she continued. "Plus the show won't go on forever, and I'll have more time when it's over. It's not ideal, but we're both always going to be busy, aren't we? Wouldn't it be best to just learn how to make the most of whatever time we can find to spend together?"

"Yeah, you're probably right," he said, though he still didn't sound entirely happy. "I'm sorry I got upset. I just don't want to lose you."

"You're not losing me," she said gently. "That's not going to happen. We just… I don't know. We need to work on getting our lives synced up a little more, you know? And I need to work on being more deliberate about making time for us. But that doesn't mean you're losing me. I want to be with you."

Raoul reached across the table and took her hand, smiling a little. "Good. I want that too."

The tightness in her chest began to ease. "Well, then, that's one less thing we have to figure out, isn't it? So, I can be free tonight if you want to do something."

"Sure. That sounds good."

"Good." She paused, examining his expression. "Are we okay?"

He gave a nod, though his expression still seemed more resigned than content. Maybe she was only imagining that, though. "Yeah, we're okay. I, um, actually need to go, though. I'll come by and pick you up at seven tonight?"

"I'll be ready."

"Great." Raoul stood and leaned across the table to kiss her. "See you then."

"Bye."

Christine stayed in her seat as she watched him go, her fingers idly tearing at her mostly uneaten pastry, though she found that she no longer had the appetite for it. The conversation replayed in her head, and while she wasn't entirely sure that the whole thing sat well with her, she knew that Raoul had a point. He wanted to spend time with her and move things forward, and that certainly wasn't an unreasonable thing to want from a relationship. So why did she feel like shying away? That was what she wanted too, wasn't it? She sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she stood, knowing she shouldn't delay her day any further. Maybe she really was just being a bad girlfriend. Resolving to do better, she dressed quickly and headed out for work, trying to stop her thoughts from lingering too much on Raoul.

* * *

It had been a long rehearsal already, and it wasn't even halfway over. Christine knew it wasn't actually any longer that other rehearsals, but it certainly felt that way. There had been a string of minor things that had gone wrong and seemingly hundreds of tiny issues with the staging that had completely stalled all progress and had left everyone irritable and frustrated. Christine had seen Raoul sit down in the auditorium part way into the rehearsal, and she was sure he must be as bored and frustrated as everyone else, not really even having much of anything to watch. There was a general sigh of relief when the scene they were working on was declared good enough for now and they were given a short break, and Christine wearily climbed down from the stage and sank into the seat beside Raoul.

"Hard day?" he asked with a sympathetic smile.

"You would think that in a group of talented people this far into rehearsals, at least one person would be able to do _one_ thing correctly on the first try. Or even the second try. But it's just one of those days, I guess. Sorry you've had to watch such a terrible rehearsal."

"I'm just glad I'm not one of the people who's stuck up there rehearsing," he replied. "I also have to get going soon. Do you have any more scenes today?"

"Not scheduled, but we're supposed to stay for the whole rehearsal anyway."

"Well, sorry to abandon you, then. Will you be able to find a ride home?"

Christine nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I might be able to catch Meg on her way home, and if not I can just walk."

"Alright. Good luck with this," he said, gesturing vaguely around them.

"I'll need it," she smiled.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, and she watched him leave as the rehearsal was called back to order. The quiet chatter reluctantly ceased and the necessary people gathered on the stage while everyone else moved to the peripheries. Christine remained seated in the auditorium, pulling her backpack out from under the seat where she had stored it, determined to at least get a little bit of studying done even if she did have to stay here. Despite her better judgment, though, she did allow herself a quick peek at her phone, reasoning that she hadn't gotten to check it in quite a while and needed to make sure no one was desperately trying to get ahold of her.

There was one new text message—from Erik. _Is this rehearsal as difficult to participate in as it is to watch?_

Her brow furrowed as she turned in her seat to examine the rest of the auditorium. The seats were mostly empty except for backpacks and a handful of other cast members, and there was no sign of Erik anywhere.

_Are you here?_ she asked him.

The reply came a few seconds later. _Yes._

She turned and looked around again, this time peering more carefully into corners and shadows and anywhere else she figured could conceivably conceal a man, but still she could see nothing.

_Where are you?_

She continued to search the room until her attention was drawn back to her phone. _If I told you, it would spoil the fun._

She laughed a little to herself and continued to scan the room for a few seconds before turning back to her phone. _It won't be much fun if you make me guess, either. I have no idea where you are._ Her focus was momentarily drawn back to the rehearsal by a bit of commotion on stage, and when she looked back at her phone no reply had come yet. _If you have a minute, could we meet when rehearsal is over?_ she typed. _I have a question about a part we went over earlier and it'd be nice to look at it while it's fresh in my mind._

_Of course,_ came the quick reply. _Meet at our practice room?_

_Thanks. See you there._

Sitting back in her seat, Christine turned her attention back to the rehearsal, spending the rest of the evening alternately watching the scenes and studying. And then it was finally over and everyone rushed from the auditorium in relief, eager to leave behind the frustration and tedium which hadn't really improved in the second part of the rehearsal. Only Christine lingered, pulling out her phone as she made her way to the practice room. Meg would be heading home from work soon and had offered to give Christine a ride, so Christine texted her that they were finished but that she needed a few minutes to meet with Erik. Meg replied that that would work perfectly for her and that she'd be there in a bit, and with her plans confirmed, Christine quickened her pace down the mostly-empty halls.

She found Erik already waiting in the practice room, greeting her with a knowing smile. "Long rehearsal?"

She smiled and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Very. And I wasn't even involved in the second half. Just watching it was still stressful."

"It was quite trying to watch at points," Erik agreed. "Some days are just like that. But I thought that you did well."

"Thanks for saying that. And thanks for meeting with me. I promise I'll keep this short—I don't feel much like working on this anyway after all that. I just thought it'd be easier to go over sooner rather than later."

"I don't mind at all," he told her. "But we'll make this quick for your sake. I'm sure you're ready to go home."

"I really am." Pulling her hastily packed-away music out of her backpack, she turned to the section that had been a snag during the rehearsal, grateful that Erik had been there to witness it and probably knew what the issue was before she even showed him the part.

True to his word, he worked with her quickly, giving her clear instructions with that patience she knew so well from him, soothing any lingering agitation in her. It would probably be good to work on it a little more, he told her, but that could wait until their lesson in the morning. She was putting the music away again a short time later, feeling much better about the section and the rehearsal as a whole, now that it hadn't been entirely fruitless.

"Do you always watch the rehearsals?" she asked as she finished packing up, suddenly realizing that the idea seemed a bit odd given that he had never mentioned it before.

Erik shook his head. "I come sometimes, but I haven't been at every one."

"Maybe one of these days I'll convince you to show me your secret hiding spot," Christine teased, and Erik smiled a little.

"Perhaps."

"So how do you think everything's coming along overall? It seems to me like we're doing fairly well compared to last year, but I was in the chorus then and the process feels different now."

"Today aside, it does seem like rehearsals are progressing well. I believe the show will come together just fine by opening night."

"It's so soon," Christine mused. "It felt soon when rehearsals first started, too, but now it feels like we're running out of time."

"You'll be ready," Erik assured her. "You're doing very well. Don't worry."

"You're not nervous?" she pressed with a small smile. "Not even a little bit? You're that confident that everything will be up to your very high standards?"

"No. Not everything. But I'm confident that you will be."

Her smile grew a little at this. "You're always saying that. I hope it's really what you think."

Before Erik could reply, there was a knock at the door, and a second later Meg poked her head into the room. "Oh good, there you are. Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting. I tried texting you but this building is a weird dead zone for me."

"It's fine," Christine told her. "I think we're finished. I was just about to come meet you."

"Don't let me rush you if you need another minute."

Christine turned and looked at Erik questioningly, and he shook his head. "I won't keep you."

"Alright." Christine swung her backpack over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Erik met her gaze, and for a moment he relaxed a little from the more rigid stance he had assumed when Meg had entered, giving her a soft smile. "See you tomorrow."

"It was nice to see you again, Erik," Meg offered over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

"You too."

With that, Christine followed Meg from the room, turning to give Erik a little wave before the door closed behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

It wasn't very often that Christine approached Meg wanting to talk about something. It wasn't often that she _needed_ to—Meg could usually tell when something was bothering Christine, and she had a way of getting her to talk through it without her even realizing. Meg had a knack for observation and an impulse to share these observations that had always branded her as a bit of a gossip, but it was certainly helpful when Christine needed someone to turn to for advice. As much as she had been trying to ignore this particular problem, as much as she had told herself that it didn't really exist, she just couldn't make it disappear. It was that little twinge that had been present for months, though she had done everything she could to deny that it was there. And now that things with Raoul were improving, the guilt weighed more heavily than ever on her conscience. Maybe if she just acknowledged it, talked through it a little, she'd realize how ridiculous the whole thing was. At least, she could hope so.

She found Meg sitting at the kitchen table working on her laptop and quietly sat down across from her. Meg looked up curiously after a second.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Do you have a minute to talk about something?"

Meg's brow furrowed. "Yeah, of course. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Christine let out a breath. "Yes? I don't know. It's probably nothing, but it's kind of been bothering me for a while, and you're always good at sorting through things like this."

Meg closed her laptop and settled back into her chair, watching Christine intently. "Okay. Shoot."

Christine took a deep breath, hardly able to believe that she was about to say the words that she had been trying very hard not to even think. "I think… I think I might have feelings for Erik?"

Meg sat up a little straighter. "Wow."

"Yeah." She agitatedly ran a hand through her hair. "And obviously I'm not going to act on it or anything. Of course not. I'm with Raoul and we're happy. And this thing with Erik is probably nothing, anyway. We just spend a lot of time together and we get along well, and for some reason I'm trying to turn that into more than what it is. I'm sure soon I'll realize that I don't _really_ feel that way about him and the whole thing will seem really stupid. But it's… it's been a while since I first thought I might have feelings for him and I haven't really been able to shake it."

Meg was silent for a moment, and Christine could practically see the gears turning in her mind. "I mean, I guess that's possible," she said eventually. "I'm sure you're bound to get close because you've been working together so closely, and you could just be misunderstanding it right now, maybe because things with Raoul aren't always easy." Christine opened her mouth to interject, but Meg held up a hand. "No, I know that you're happy with him. But I also know that you went through a bit of a rough patch, there. Maybe you think you feel something for Erik just because you have a different kind of closeness with him."

"Maybe," Christine agreed, part of her hoping that they could just stick with that explanation.

"Or…"

"Or?" she echoed warily.

"Or you might actually have feelings for him," she finished. "It's not completely unbelievable."

Christine screwed her eyes shut and let her head drop back; that wasn't a possibility she wanted to consider. "But even if—" She sighed. "Even if that is the case, it doesn't matter, does it? Either way, I should just forget about it because I love Raoul and I want to be with him."

Meg hesitated. "Do you?"

Christine sat back up with a start, looking at Meg incredulously, but Meg went on before she could argue.

"I know it's not what you want to hear, but just listen for a second, okay? In the three minutes we've been talking, you've said twice that you want to be with Raoul. It kind of sounds like I'm not the one you're trying to convince."

"But it's true," Christine protested. "We're happy together. He's great."

"That's a pretty weak defense," Meg said. "Hear me out. So Raoul's this charming, handsome guy, right? And the two of you were childhood sweethearts and you've reconnected after all these years, and that's super romantic. Anyone would want that relationship to work. It seems like it should be perfect. But maybe you want to be happy with him more than you actually are happy with him. Not to overstep, but when I came to pick you up the other day when you were practicing with Erik, you looked really happy. It's been a while since I've seen you look that happy with Raoul. I'm not saying that that means you should date Erik, or whatever. But you should be that happy with your boyfriend."

Christine sat for a minute, silently wringing her hands as she mulled over Meg's words. She wished terribly that she could refute the claim without a hint of hesitation or uncertainty, but much to her dismay the suggestion did not seem outrageously untrue. "But it's not just the idea of Raoul that I love. I care about him a lot."

"Caring about someone and being happy in a relationship with them are two different things," Meg pointed out. "I'm just saying that it might be worth giving it some thought. I know that you love him, and I know that you really want things to work out with him. But are you actually happy? I mean, you did decide not to go on that trip with him, and you weren't exactly into the idea when he started talking about getting married. Which I definitely don't blame you for," she added. "I think it's a little soon, even if things were totally great between you two. But it seems like at least the idea of marriage should be a little more appealing if you see yourself getting married someday and really want to be with the person, doesn't it?"

Christine looked down. "I guess so, maybe," she said quietly.

"And… I kind of overheard some of that talk that you guys had a couple of weeks ago. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, but… that wasn't great, Christine."

"I know," Christine admitted. "I've thought about that talk a lot, and the more I've thought about it, the more unhappy I am with how it went. But… I don't know. I felt guilty and I just wanted things between us to be better, and he seemed satisfied in the end, so I guess I was hoping that if I just let things be for now, everything would work itself out."

"I don't think relationship problems tend to just work themselves out."

"I know." She dropped her head into her hands, trying to collect her thoughts. "You're right. I should really think about this. But let's just say that I realize that I'm not happy. That doesn't mean that I should do anything about my feelings for Erik, right? I don't even know if I would want to. I don't know if it's anything more than just a passing interest."

"Okay," Meg said calmly. "Let's work through this. What makes you think that these feelings are romantic? What makes it more than a good friendship?"

Christine hesitated. She hadn't even let herself think about this; saying it out loud, explaining it to another person, felt uncomfortable, if not even shameful. Part of her wished that Meg would just talk her out of whatever she thought she felt rather than making her look more closely at it. She'd wanted to put an end to this idea that had planted itself in the back of her mind and stubbornly resisted her attempts to ignore and dismantle it. Giving it this acknowledgement made it seem more legitimate, and the more credence she gave the idea, the greater the betrayal to Raoul felt. But it wasn't like she was confessing to doing anything wrong, she reminded herself. She was uncertain about the way she felt, and she certainly hadn't _done_ anything. And if there was anyone who would help her work through something that had been eating away at her without judging her or making her feel bad, it was Meg.

"Remember last semester after your recital? Erik and I ran into each other there and ended up hanging out for a while, and then he took me to pick you up from that party. While we were waiting for you outside, there was this moment… We were really close and I could feel this electricity between us and… I wanted to kiss him. And it's like since then I can't quite stop wondering what that would be like." The admission came out in a rush, as if being buried for so long had made it more urgent.

Meg thought for a moment, letting Christine's words settle. "So do you think there's a possibility that it's just, like, superficial attraction?"

Christine shrugged. "I guess it's possible, but it feels like it's more than that. He's passionate, and he's a genius, and he loves music like no one I've ever known. When he smiles my heart beats faster. And, sure, he's kind of…"

"Rough around the edges?" Meg supplied.

"Yeah. But he can be so kind and thoughtful and sweet."

There was another long pause before Meg spoke again, her words cautious. "It sounds like you really do have feelings for him."

"I know." Christine shook her head. "So I have feelings for Erik and I might not be happy with Raoul," she said incredulously, finding that saying it aloud didn't make things any simpler and instead grasping for anything that would nullify the situation. When she did think of something, she spoke with a note of almost desperate hope. "Even if all that is the case, it still doesn't really matter. Erik doesn't feel that way about me. So I should just drop the whole thing, right?" Meg scoffed, and Christine looked at her questioningly.

"Are you serious?" Meg laughed a little. "You think he doesn't have feelings for you? Have you _seen_ the way he looks at you? I'd decided not to mention this before because I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it, but he is _so_ into you."

"What are you talking about?" Christine felt a blush creeping up her neck as she did her best to forget the look that she knew Meg meant—the one that always made her feel so pleasantly warm. "How he looks at me? You've met him, what, twice?"

"Hon, it took all of five seconds to notice. Seriously, if you don't see the way he looks at you, it's because you're trying not to."

Christine was silent for a moment before shaking her head again. "This is silly. We shouldn't even be talking about this. I'm with Raoul, and until I figure out whether or not I really want to be, that's where it ends. There's nothing more to discuss. I don't know what I'm doing even thinking about this."

Meg sighed and reached over to cover Christine's hand with hers. "I'm sorry, Christine. I don't want you to be second-guessing everything because of me. I just want you to be happy, and I really think you should give some thought to what you want."

"I know," Christine gave her a tired smile. "Thanks for watching out for me."

A moment passed before Meg spoke again, her voice cautious. "What about the mask?"

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't bother you at all? I mean, don't you feel a bit like you don't really know him?"

Christine wasn't sure if she was relieved or not that they had somehow reached the other subject that had been sitting like a rock in her stomach. "I looked," she said quietly. "I looked under the mask, Meg. He doesn't know."

Meg's eyes widened. "What? When? How?"

"I…. When I came back early from break, our lesson ran long and it was snowing really hard and the roads were a mess, so I suggested that he just wait out the storm here. He ended up spending the night and… and I woke up in the middle of the night and looked out into the living room and the mask was just a little off…" She let out a frustrated huff. "I should have just turned around and gone back to bed, I know, but I guess I thought that maybe if I saw even a little bit of his face then I wouldn't be so curious anymore and could just let it go."

"And?" Meg pressed after a moment when she didn't continue.

"And so I looked. And it didn't seem that terrible, but it was dark, and I could only see a little anyway. I can't decide whether the worst part is that I broke my promise to him like that or that I'm a little relieved that I couldn't see much."

It was silent for a moment, and when Christine looked up she found Meg watching her thoughtfully.

"I really, really wish I hadn't done it," she said quietly, almost to herself. "What do I do, Meg?"

Meg blinked and shook her head. "I don't know."

"You don't know? But you know everything!" Christine joked weakly.

"I know, I know, I'm usually a fountain of wisdom," Meg said, giving her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

Rubbing her eyes and sliding down in her chair, Christine remained quiet for a moment. "I don't think I should tell him about the mask," she said eventually, her voice tired but decided. "As horrible as I feel about it… it would be best to just forget that it happened, right?"

"That sounds reasonable," Meg said carefully.

"You think I should tell him?"

Meg shrugged helplessly. "I told you, I really don't know. I'm not sure there's really a good option, other than maybe traveling back in time and stopping yourself."

"That sounds about right," Christine sighed.

There was another pause. "And what about the other part?" Meg prompted a little hesitantly.

"I'm even less sure about that, if that's possible." She stared down at the table, studying the grain of the wood and the scratches that peppered the surface until her vision blurred and she had to blink it back into focus. "I'll talk to Raoul," she said eventually. "Maybe if we can just work through some of those things that make me unsure, I would be fully happy with him and the rest of it wouldn't matter anymore."

"I think that's a good idea," Meg told her. "Just be honest with him about what's bothering you about the relationship."

Christine nodded, determined to see at least that much through now that she had a little bit of direction. She would talk to Raoul, and if they could start to work things out, that would settle the whole issue; there would be no room for question about whether or not she was happy with him, no more thoughts of Erik as anything more to her than he should be. And if they couldn't work things out… well, she would figure out how to deal with that part if it came to it.

She met Raoul for coffee later that day, feeling a little disoriented in the bright, bustling coffee shop that he had suggested rather than her usual trip to the Nightingale. Raoul ordered their drinks while she waited for him at a table, and he joined her after a few minutes, flashing her a warm smile as he sat across from her.

"Another busy weekend for you?" he asked.

"Not too bad, surprisingly. I think it's the calm before the storm, though. Rehearsals are going to get pretty intense with the show coming up so soon." She paused, taking a sip of her coffee. "Hey, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure. Of course." Raoul sat forward in his chair, his expression sobering a little. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly. I just…" She glanced up, meeting his eyes. "I'm really glad that we've been able to fit in more time together lately, but I still feel like things are a little off between us."

He looked away, shifting in his seat. "I… I'm sorry you feel that way," he said, his voice calm but his expression tight.

Christine paused. "You don't feel it at all?" she prodded gently. "You feel like everything's good?"

It was a second before he spoke. "I don't know. I feel like things are at least _better_."

"That doesn't mean we can't work on things a little more, does it?" she asked, reaching across the table to take his hand. "Look, I'm not trying to hurt your feelings or give you a hard time. Honestly. I just want to make sure we're doing what we can to make this work and make sure that we're both happy."

"That's fair."

She gave him a soft smile, squeezing his hand. "I know that my schedule hasn't been ideal and that it can been hard to coordinate things when you're so busy too, but I really have been trying hard to work on us. And I'm going to keep trying. I just… I would appreciate it if you could try a little harder to see where I'm coming from, you know? I need you to understand that just because music and school are important to me and keep me busy, that doesn't mean that you're less important to me."

Raoul thought for a moment before nodding. "Maybe I have been a little… insistent. It's just because I love you."

"I know," Christine replied. "And I love you too."

"I'm sorry if you feel like I haven't been supportive of you. I don't want you to feel that way."

"Thanks for understanding," she said, her smile growing a little as her uncertainty began to fade a little.

"Is there anything else that's bothering you, as long as we're on the subject?"

Christine hesitated for a second, glancing away as she thought back to her conversation with Meg. It hadn't been easy to confess any doubt about the relationship, even to her best friend. But hadn't that doubt been what she had just addressed? Raoul would try to be a little more understanding of what she wanted, and she would continue trying to put a little more priority on what he wanted. Any relationship required that kind of work; recognizing that didn't mean that she was questioning the relationship. Maybe she had overreacted when she had talked with Meg. She had been a little uncertain and worried that Raoul wouldn't respond to her concerns like he had, and she had made more of the situation than it really was.

Thoughts flickered through her mind of Raoul's family and their cool disapproval, of the rigid plan for their lives that Raoul might or might not still have in place, of Erik. But it would be so easy to let herself believe that these issues had only seemed significant because of doubt that no longer existed, that it had all built up in her mind until it seemed liked a much bigger issue than it really was. It would be so easy to let herself believe that all of her concerns had been smoothed over. And as she met Raoul's eyes again, finding them full of kindness and concern, she found that she just couldn't dredge up the will to voice something that would only upset him.

"No," she said. "There's nothing else."


	17. Chapter 17

Rehearsals flew by in what felt like no time at all. Christine's days became a blur of routine—lessons, classes, work, rehearsal, homework—only allowing her a break when she collapsed into exhausted sleep that never seemed to last long enough. True to her word, she was sure to set aside time to spend with Raoul, although this time was often spent either sitting in a wearied, quiet daze or sneaking in some assigned reading, which at least Raoul didn't seem to mind much given that he had his fair share of work to do as well. They had managed to settle into a comfortable routine, and as worn out as Christine was, she was happy. _Really_ happy, actually. Her days were busy, but the activity left her satisfied.

There had seemed to be so little rehearsal time when rehearsals were just starting, and it had still managed to go by faster than Christine had expected. Then, suddenly, she found herself in the dressing room she shared, preparing for opening night. She had felt calm and fully prepared up until the moment she had entered the concert hall; all of the months of hard work and careful preparation had been leading to this night, and while that preparation had been a comfort to her earlier, it began to feel a little more like something she had to live up to. What if she didn't do well and all of that hard work had been for nothing? She tried to shake the thoughts from her head, tried to ignore the nerves pooling in her stomach as the minutes ticked by. It wasn't long now before the show would start. Taking a breath that did little to steady her, she reached for her phone and dialed the familiar number.

Erik felt his phone buzz just as he had taken his place, unnoticed and tucked away at the back of the crowded auditorium. He answered immediately, hardly glancing at the screen to see who was calling—he could guess. "Christine?"

"Hi Erik," she said, her voice sounding upbeat but a little uncertain. "Are you here? Are you going to be watching?"

"Of course I am," he nearly laughed. "How could I miss your big night? But you should be starting soon. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," she replied unconvincingly. "Everything's fine. I just wanted to see if you were here."

"Are you sure you're fine?" Erik pressed.

Christine released a shaky breath. "I'm really nervous. I didn't think I would be—I felt completely fine right up until I got here."

"There's no need to be nervous, Christine," he told her gently. "You could sing the show perfectly in your sleep."

"Are you sure?" she asked, growing quiet. "Are you sure I can do this, Erik? What if I mess up? What if I'm not good enough?"

"You are more than good enough," Erik said firmly. "Christine, I never wanted to take on a student before you because I was convinced that no one could be talented enough or dedicated enough to do anything but frustrate me. You have exceeded every expectation, and I have _enjoyed_ teaching you, which I never would have thought possible. You are incredibly talented and you've worked hard. I am entirely sure that you can do this. Take deep breaths and focus on the music. You have nothing to worry about."

A second passed before Christine spoke again, her voice a little thick but more certain than before. "Thank you"

"You will be wonderful. Now go finish getting ready."

"Will you come and see me after the show? I could meet you at our practice room."

The request filled him with warmth, as simple as it was. "Of course I will."

He could hear the smile in Christine's voice. "I'll see you then."

It wasn't long after the call ended that the lights in the auditorium dimmed and the buzz of the conversations around him quieted. He couldn't ignore the anxious flutter in his stomach as the first notes rang out from the orchestra. He had every confidence in her; there was no doubt in his mind that she would be a great success. Perhaps he was only sharing her nervousness, he thought with amusement. He'd gladly take it all from her if it would allow her to focus and begin her night with assurance.

A smile formed on his lips when Christine floated onto the stage, looking as though it was exactly where she belonged. He wasn't sure he had ever seen her look more poised or dignified, even despite the overly frilly gown she wore. The nerves she had spoken of just minutes before had left no trace. She sang her first lines with a strong, clear voice, the bouncy notes falling lightly from her lips. Erik settled back in his seat, swelling with pride as he watched her; she was _perfect_.

Finally she was left alone on the stage, and the familiar notes of the song they had worked on so much drew all attention to her. She didn't shrink from it—if anything she seemed to grow more radiant, blooming beneath the spotlight. She flitted around the stage, eliciting laughs from the audience and radiating charm, but it was her voice that really shone. The rest of the cast members were not without talent, but she was head and shoulders above them and it showed. Erik had been stunned by her voice that first night he'd heard her, but she had grown remarkably since then—a testament to her genius and dedication, he knew—and hearing her now… She was beyond words.

The music began to build as she stood smiling coquettishly at the center of the stage, her voice climbing with it. In the brief pause before her final notes, and he could have sworn that she locked eyes with him, somehow finding his gaze in the darkness. For just a flash of a moment, she wasn't playing Cunegonde; she was just Christine, grinning excitedly at him as if to say, "This is it." She held his gaze as her voice soared, hitting her high notes with practiced ease. And then the song was ending as she twirled around on stage, laughing giddily to the final notes.

The applause began before the last note rang out. It was deafening, and though Christine tried to remain in character, her expression softened after a few seconds, overwhelmed by the response. Erik felt as though he might burst with pride for her, though it was not the self-congratulatory pride he might have expected at his student's achievement—his role in her success was far from his mind. This was what she deserved, what he had known she was capable of. This was the kind of success he had envisioned for her, and this was only just the beginning. This was only the first of a long string of triumphs that would undoubtedly make up her career. She was everything he could possibly have hoped for.

It took a few moments for the audience to settle enough for the show to begin again, and through the rest of the night Christine's performance never faltered. She was unerringly charming just as her voice never wavered in its beauty. She glowed on stage, seeming just as much at ease there as if she had never known anything else. The rest of the show was well enough done, but she was by far the best part of it.

When the cast came out for bows, the cheers were uproarious for her. The cast members that stood around her grinned and nudged her forward. She looked utterly overcome, her smile soft and her eyes glistening with tears. Her gaze darted over the dimly lit auditorium for a moment before landing on him again, though he still wasn't sure how she could see him from her place on stage. But she met his eyes and her face brightened, and he beamed back at her.

* * *

The rush that accompanied the applause took Christine's breath away. It felt like her legs were about to give out from under her, and she searched the audience for familiar faces to ground her. There were a few people she recognized from the department scattered through the crowd, and near the center sat Raoul, Meg, and Mrs. Giry, smiling up at her and applauding enthusiastically. But her eyes sought out Erik again—those strange golden eyes that had glinted at her in the darkness, that she felt more than she actually saw. She looked to the back of the auditorium until she found his eyes again. She wanted to talk with him, wanted to hear what he thought, but she would have to wait a while longer for that. For now, they had this moment. She hoped he knew how much of this she owed to him.

The curtain went down and she stood still for a moment, exhausted and exhilarated and amazed. Some of the cast members congratulated her as they moved by her, telling her what a great job she had done, and she smiled and thanked them, saying that they had been great too and that the show had been so much fun. Still half-dazed, she made her way to the lobby, her progress slowed by the string of people pausing to praise her performance, until she finally spotted her family in the crowd and hurried over to them.

Meg was the first to get to her, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Christine!" she squealed. "Christine, you were amazing! I mean it, you were absolutely perfect. I have no idea how you could have gone so long without being discovered."

"Thanks, Meg," Christine laughed. "And thank you guys so much for coming. I'm so glad you could make it."

"Of course," Mrs. Giry smiled, taking her into her arms as soon as Meg released her and pressing a kiss to her temple. "We wouldn't have missed it for the world. You were fantastic. We were all very impressed."

"Thank you so much," Christine smiled, feeling like the words were inadequate but not knowing what else to say.

"You really were great," Raoul told her, opening his arms to her when Mrs. Giry let her go. "You blew everyone away. I've heard you sing before, but I had no idea you could sing like _that_."

She laughed again, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. Did you all enjoy the show?"

"We did," Meg said. "It was really good. It definitely seems like a step up from the production last year, but that might just be because you were starring," she added with a grin.

"_Everyone_ did a really good job," Christine insisted.

"True," Meg replied with a nonchalant shrug. "But you were the star."

Christine smiled and shook her head. "Well, thank you. And thank you again for coming. It means a lot to me. I hate to rush off, but I still need to go get changed and wipe off all this makeup."

"What, you mean this isn't just your new look?" Meg teased, poking at Christine's panniered skirt.

"I do like it, but it's a little impractical. I really enjoy being able to fit into cars," she replied playfully before turning to Mrs. Giry. "Are you staying with us tonight or do you have to go home right away?"

"I'm staying," Mrs. Giry replied. "So Meg and I will meet you at your apartment."

"Do you want me to wait around for you?" Raoul asked.

"No, that's okay. I have Meg's car. But we're still on for brunch tomorrow, right?"

Raoul pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You bet. Go get changed. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you." She hurried off with a wave, then, heading at first back in the direction she'd come from, but instead of going to the dressing rooms, she continued on down the big hallway until she came to the alcove of practice rooms. Her steps quickened as she made her way through the winding halls to her usual room. By the time she reached the door she was practically jogging, her heart hammering with excitement at the thought of sharing her happiness with the one person who would really, fully share it. Pushing open the door, she found him waiting for her inside, a bouquet of red roses in hand. He smiled at her more brightly than she had ever seen him smile, and a similar grin spread across her face.

Before she was aware of what she was doing, Christine was rushing to him, practically jumping into his arms. He caught her and held her tightly, letting her feet dangle just above the ground, and she laughed. There was no trace of the hesitation that had tinged their previous embraces—no caution or uncertainty. Just them. It was a second before he set her down again, but he still didn't release her completely, his hands remaining lightly on her waist.

"You were extraordinary, Christine," he told her. "Truly. You were better than anything I could have imagined."

Christine blushed at the praise. "Thank you, Erik," she told him quietly. "For everything, I mean. You know I'd never be here if it weren't for you."

"You'd also never be here if it weren't for all your talent and dedication. You made my part very easy," he said, his smile softening. "Really, Christine, you were stunning tonight. I'm very proud of you."

Christine blinked as tears pricked her eyes, starting to thank him again but feeling the words catch in her throat. It wouldn't be enough, anyway—nothing she could say could do justice to the difference he'd made in her life. And, after all that, he was proud of her. Those simple words filled her with warmth. He had seen her potential from the start, he had thought enough of her to meet with her almost every morning for months, he had guided her and encouraged her; he had seen every bit of progress she'd made, and he had helped her make it. And he was _proud_ of her.

She realized then that their arms were still around each other, but instead of pulling away, she leaned back into him, tightening her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. He seemed a little uncertain this time, more aware of the contact than before, but after a second of hesitation he returned the embrace. There was something so tender about the way he held her, as if he wanted to never let go of her but was afraid that she might break in his grasp, and the thought made her heart flutter a little. She was reluctant to pull away from him, and she had only put the slightest bit of distance between them when she paused and glanced up at him. He was looking down at her with that warm, intense gaze that always made her breath catch, and she thought of how easy it would be to just stretch up onto her toes and press her lips to his, just briefly. No, it wasn't that it would be easy—it was that she wanted to do it. The thought of kissing him was fixed in her mind, and while she knew that this should make her pull away from him, she couldn't quite find the will to. She had thought she'd put aside anything she thought she might have felt for him; she'd decided that the whole thing had been silly. But here she was, wishing very badly that things were different.

Erik was the one to pull away, and as he did Christine let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. He let his arms drop to his sides, and with a pang of disappointment, she did the same. They had only stood there for a few seconds, but she felt as if she was coming out of a long dream. Her head cleared and she was aware again that they were standing in their practice room, and that it was late and she was tired and still in her costume from the show. The adrenaline from the performance was fading, leaving her worn out. That was probably why she had thought about kissing him, she told herself. She was tired and her mind was a little muddled. That was all.

"I should probably go get changed," she murmured, gesturing to her dress.

"Of course. You must be tired. I don't want to keep you." This was said without a hint of coolness, but Christine knew that the happiness they had shared only moments before had dimmed a little. Determined not to leave on this note, she smiled and nudged him.

"We did it."

He returned her smile, seeming to brighten a little. "_You_ did it."

"I think both things can be true."

Relenting, he nodded. "Alright. Do you need a ride home?"

"I have Meg's car. She left with her mom. Mrs. Giry mentioned wanting to meet you, by the way. She'll have to leave early tomorrow, though, so I guess you were spared that."

"I don't know that I would mind meeting her all that much," Erik said, and Christine looked up at him with surprise. "You speak very highly of her. Perhaps meeting her wouldn't be so terrible."

"I thought you didn't like people," Christine teased.

"Well, you're not so bad. Maybe there are a handful of others who are tolerable." He smiled. "I'll let you go now. I'm sure you're exhausted after tonight."

"I am pretty tired."

"Rest up. You have another show tomorrow night."

She grinned. "I do, don't I? I get to do this again."

"You do," he chuckled. Holding out the bouquet of roses, he added, "And I'll be there watching again."

"Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He nodded. "Have a good night."

The building had grown quiet, the audience having long since left and only a handful of cast members still lingering around. The other girls who shared the dressing room had already gone, so Christine had the small space to herself while she removed her makeup, pulled the pins from her hair, and stripped off her gown. Something about being back in her own clothes made the exhaustion settle in even more heavily, and suddenly all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there for a very long time. The night already seemed like a dream. It was too surreal, too unbelievable to have actually happened. But the applause was still echoing in her head; when she closed her eyes she could see the glare of the stage lights. She had actually performed tonight, and she had loved every second of it.

And tomorrow night she'd get to do it all over again.


	18. Chapter 18

The restaurant was much busier than Christine would have expected given that it was fairly early on a Saturday morning. Raoul escorted her through the tables of people and out onto the patio, where it was at least a little quieter even if it wasn't less crowded. She breathed in the fresh spring air as she took her seat, letting the beautiful day and the warmth of the sun on her face lift her spirits even further. The rush of the night before hadn't quite worn off, and she had woken up in an especially good mood that morning. The day would start off with a nice brunch with her boyfriend and end with her on stage, and she had a hard time imagining how it could get much better.

"You look really pretty this morning," Raoul told her as he took his seat across from her. "I mean, you're always pretty, but especially today."

Christine laughed lightly. "Thank you. And thanks for taking me out this morning."

"Of course," Raoul said easily. "We have to celebrate your big performance."

"We planned this a week ago," she pointed out. "What would you have done if I had been terrible last night?"

"Well, obviously I would have canceled the date," he replied with mock severity. "Nothing to celebrate, no celebratory brunch."

"Ah. In that case, I'm especially glad that last night went well. Do we get to do this again tomorrow if tonight's show is good?"

"It's not really a celebration if you do it every day, is it?"

She gave him a playful nudge. "You're no fun."

This place had become something of a regular spot for them, and it was clear that Raoul frequented it even when she wasn't with him if the diligent service he received on such a busy morning was anything to go by. The waitress quickly arrived to take their orders, bringing their drinks out immediately and their food soon after that. Christine paused when she glanced up and found Raoul smiling at her. She gave him a questioning look, and he shrugged in response, still smiling.

"I want this to _really_ be a celebration," he said. "We have a lot to be happy about, don't we? You have the show, and I'm finishing up my degree and going to law school, and… and things between us are going well, aren't they?"

Christine nodded. "Very well. I'm really happy."

"Good." Raoul shifted a little, his eyes darting nervously between her face and his plate. "Because I'd like to add one more thing to celebrate."

Her stomach dropped when he stood from his chair and dropped to one knee in front of her, reaching into his pocket to produce a small box. They hadn't discussed getting engaged since Raoul had first brought it up, and she had assumed that her less-than-enthusiastic reaction at the time had been enough indication of her hesitation. And given how tense things had been for a little while and how well they'd been going lately, she had been content to leave well enough alone, figuring that Raoul had just decided to drop the idea for the time being. Apparently she had been wrong.

She could feel the blush creeping up her neck and the panic rising in her chest as she sat paralyzed, aware that the din of conversations around them had grown hushed.

"Christine," Raoul began. "You know how much I love you, how much I've always loved you. Even when we were kids, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Raoul, wait," Christine said quietly, finally finding her voice. "Just hold on, please."

His brow furrowed. "What is it?"

"Um…" The people around them had gone completely silent, and as her gaze darted anxiously around the room, some people didn't even bother to pretend that they weren't watching the scene before them unfold. "Can we… can we go somewhere and talk about this in private? I feel a little… exposed."

"What is there to talk about?" Raoul asked, still not moving from his position. "Can't it wait for a minute until I've, ah, said what I needed to say?"

"No, no, it can't wait. Please, Raoul, just… let's just go somewhere else and talk, okay?"

He stood but didn't move from the table, hurt and confusion clear on his face. "What do you want to talk about?"

Christine sighed, starting to stand. "Come on. Let's go back to the car."

"No," Raoul said, his voice rising a little. "You've just… you've rejected my proposal and I want to know why. You want to talk, so let's talk."

Taking a steadying breath, she tried to ignore the feeling of eyes on her, focusing instead on keeping her voice quiet and even. "I… I just thought that I had made it clear when we talked about this before that I'm just not ready for this," she said gently. "I love you, Raoul, but I'm not ready to get married."

"But we wouldn't actually be getting married for over a year at least," he pointed out, but she shook her head.

"It isn't that, exactly. Even if there wasn't a timeline for when you wanted us to get married, even if we could have a long engagement, I just… it's hard to explain, and…" she shifted uncomfortably, forcing herself not to glance around them again. "Raoul, can we please talk about this a little more privately?"

She wasn't sure if he didn't hear her or if he just didn't care. "I don't understand," he said, growing frustrated. "You love me and you want us to be together, but you don't want to get engaged. This is the easiest decision in the world for me, and I'm a little worried that it's so difficult for you."

Looking down at her lap, Christine bit her lip as she tried to piece together reasoning that she couldn't even fully articulate in her own mind. "I… if we got married," she said, "my life is the one that would need to conform to yours. You would continue down that same path you're on right now, but I would need to move to wherever you are, find a job there instead of being able to keep my options open… everything would be limited for me. And, sure, I would be fine with doing that someday, but I'll just be starting out. I feel like I need to have a chance to establish myself a little first. Does that make any sense?"

Raoul was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know, Christine. This is what I want, and I don't know if I'm okay with taking a step back from this. I almost think that if you don't want this, then maybe we should just break up."

Christine studied the expanse of white tablecloth between them, not quite wanting to meet his eyes as she mulled over his words. "I think you're right," she said finally.

For a second, Raoul's face grew hopeful. "And?"

She shook her head. "I think we should break up."

There was a long stretch of silence. Christine didn't notice whether or not the hum of conversation around them had resumed; she could only hear her own breathing and the heavy thudding of her heart. She could hardly believe she had just uttered the words. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go. Surely, he had to understand her hesitation, had to know that it didn't mean she didn't want to be with him. But as steadfast as he was about this, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised that he wasn't willing to settle for less than what he wanted. After a few seconds she dared to look up at him, finding him still standing over her, looking at her as if he was trying to decipher words that she had just spoken in a foreign language. His hand rested on the edge of the table and she reached over to cover it with hers, but he jerked away at her touch.

"Raoul, I'm sorry," she said helplessly. "I don't want to end things between us, but I don't know what else to do. It's pretty clear that we want different things here, and if we're just heading in different directions, I don't know if we'll be able to make that work. If we can't find a way that we're both happy, then maybe it's…" she sighed, not quite willing to acknowledge the thought but finding that she was unable to shove it down. "Maybe it's for the best."

"How very… _altruistic_ of you," Raoul replied. "I'm so glad to hear that you love me so much that you'd rather break up than get engaged."

The harsh edge to his voice caught Christine off guard.

"I do love you," she insisted. "And I really am sorry. But if things continue as they are and we're not both willing to make compromises, where do you see this going? Can you really see a future for us where we're both happy?"

"So that's the problem—that I'm not willing to give up the stable, secure future that I've been working towards for years so we can follow your non-plan for your life instead?"

"That's not at all what I'm saying," Christine argued, her voice rising slightly as her frustration and hurt grew. "If you could just give a little bit, maybe we could make things work. But you won't budge from your plan at all. We have to get engaged now and then get married according to the timeline that you worked out for us. You want me to _live_ according to your timeline and you won't even let me have a say in it. I try to tell you how I feel and what I want and it's like you don't even hear me."

"You are unbelievable," Raoul told her. "As if I've never done anything for you. As if I've never made any sacrifices and this whole relationship has been a breeze for me. I've supported you though school and your lessons and everything that you did that kept us from really having a chance together. I've defended your carelessness and your aimlessness to my family, even when you bailed on the trip. But maybe they were right about you—maybe I shouldn't have trusted you."

Indignation flared. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You come from nothing and you have nothing, and, frankly, you're headed into nothing. You're entering into an incredibly competitive career field with no plan, no connections, and hardly any experience. But you could easily charm your way to a patron."

"You think I'm dating you because of your status?" Christine asked incredulously. "I'm not scheming to take advantage of your situation, and I'm not some lost, helpless child who needs you to sort her life out for her. If that's what you honestly think, then it's obvious that you haven't bothered to get to know me. And you know what? Maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe to you, I'm still that little girl you met on the beach that summer. I don't need someone to take care of me and make my decisions for me, Raoul."

"I know you plenty well," Raoul shot back. "I know you well enough to know that if you really did love me like you say you do, you wouldn't want to break up, no matter what. This would be tearing you apart. So either you don't care about me like you claim to, or you have reasons for wanting to break up that you're not sharing."

"Like what?"

"Like feelings for someone else," he snapped, and she fell silent. "I've tried to ignore it, tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I'm not blind, Christine. You canceled our trip to come back here for your lessons. You spend every minute you can with him. Even last night, you hardly spoke to me after the show before you were running off to see him, which you hid from me, by the way. That sends a pretty unambiguous message."

It was a second before Christine could speak again, and her voice was decidedly weaker than she would have liked. "How did you know about last night?"

Raoul sighed, deflating just a little bit. "I didn't. I was only suspicious. Thank you for the confirmation."

"It's not like that," she defended, stubbornly blinking back the tears that were pricking at her eyes. "I would never cheat on you."

"But you're not denying that you have feelings."

She was silent, unable to speak around the lump in her throat as she was flooded with guilt, and he scoffed and turned away from her. Something in his reaction sparked anger in her, though, and she found that she wasn't ready to let the argument drop.

"So, what, you think that I have feelings for someone and you decide that rushing into marriage is the solution to that? Do you think that everything would suddenly be perfect if I had 'property of Raoul' stamped on my forehead?"

"Oh, forgive me for wanting to commit to the girl I love. But you know what? It would only show just that—that I'm committed to you. You could still be going behind my back. You could have been for our entire relationship, for all I know."

Finally deciding that she had heard enough, Christine stood abruptly and rushed through the restaurant and out onto the street, careful not to make eye contact with anyone on the way. She paused outside, trying to catch her breath, when Raoul appeared at her side. He started to say something, but she spoke before he could.

"Raoul, listen to me," she said, holding his gaze. "I know that you're hurt and upset, and I'm sorry for that, but you have no right to accuse me like this. When you're ready to have a conversation, you know where to find me. But until then, I think it would be best if you didn't talk to me."

Raoul was still for a moment before turning, slow and dignified, and walking down the street to his car. Christine started in the other direction with quick steps, pulling out her phone to call Meg. But her vision blurred and her hands trembled and the lump in her throat had grown too big to speak around, and she had no choice but to let the tears she had been fighting finally spill over.

* * *

Something was off that night. Erik couldn't place exactly what it was at first—her performance was still strong, her voice still beautiful—but something was missing. The light and energy that had made her so radiant the night before wasn't there. Her smile never quite seemed to reach her eyes. Something was definitely wrong, and the knot in his stomach grew as the show went on and he could only sit and wonder about it. It was gnawing at him by the end of the performance, and the little part of his mind that persisted that it must have somehow been his fault wasn't helping.

He watched for her as the audience filtered out, but the building gradually emptied and there was still no sign of her. Growing more concerned with each minute that passed, Erik eventually made his way down the quiet halls to the dressing rooms. All but one of the doors stood open to reveal a dark room; he knocked quietly on the closed door. Christine's "come in" was muffled, but he could hear the weariness in her voice.

Christine sat at the dressing table, having changed into her own clothes and sat down to remove her makeup, only to be kept there by a complete lack of desire to move. The same thoughts had been echoing in her mind all day—flashes of that awful morning, the hurt and frustration and humiliation. Meg had been quick to come and pick her up, and she hadn't prodded when Christine had muttered that she and Raoul were over and then sat silently for the rest of the ride home, passively watching the familiar stretches of road go by. She had told Meg everything once they had arrived home, and Meg had pulled her into a hug and let her cry quietly into her shoulder until the tears subsided into small sniffles. Drained, Christine had headed back to her room, spending the afternoon alternating between trying to study and trying to sleep but not really able to do either.

She had roused herself when it was time to leave for the theater, hopeful that for at least a little while her spirits would be lifted by the thrill of performing, allowing her to have a short reprieve. But even though she had tried, she hadn't quite been able to muster the energy she had hoped for, and her own disappointment with her performance only added to the weight of this day. And now, at the end of the night, she was left tired but restless and out of things to prevent her mind from replaying the morning in an endless, excruciating loop. Left alone in the dressing room, she had closed her eyes and let her head sink into her hands, and she hadn't been aware of just how long she had stayed that way until she heard Erik say her name. She looked up to see him entering, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out before he could speak.

Erik paused. "What?"

"I know I was distracted tonight," she sighed, looking away. "We put in so much work to get here, and then I can't even stay focused and put in a decent amount of effort."

Erik knelt beside her but said nothing, carefully examining her expression. She looked utterly worn out. "I'm… I'm not upset with you, if that's what you think," he said gently. "I could tell that something was off… and I was worried."

"Oh." She shook her head. "It's just been a rough day."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he offered.

Christine gave him a weak smile. "Thanks. I really am sorry that I was off tonight. I should have been able to pull it together more."

"I didn't think that you were _that_ off," Erik told her. "I'm sure no one noticed anything."

They were quiet for a moment; he wanted to offer her some kind of comfort, but none of the words that came to him felt appropriate. He could see what it was in her expression now that had pained him. It was more than just weariness—it was sadness. His mind raced as he searched for some way to make the misery disappear from her normally bright eyes, to smooth the little crease between her brows.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" he asked, acutely aware of how short the offer fell. Whatever was bothering her, a ride home surely wasn't the solution.

She shook her head. "That's okay. I don't really feel like going home yet."

There was another moment of silence, and Erik felt himself growing a little frantic as he searched for something to say, some way to give even a small amount of comfort to her. Even if he didn't know exactly what the cause was, perhaps if he could just take her mind off of it for a while…. Then the idea occurred to him. It was a bit of a leap, and it felt more than a little forward, but he spoke before he could change his mind.

"Come with me," he offered.

Christine looked up at him. "Where?"

"It's a surprise."

There was a spark of interest in her eyes, just as he had hoped. She considered for a second before standing and gathering her things, turning to him with a small, tired smile. "Lead the way."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hey, everyone! This chapter marks the halfway point through the fic, so I just wanted to jump in and say thank you so much for reading. I've had so much fun working on this story and I hope you all are enjoying it so far. There's lots more to come!**

**If you feel so inclined, please do leave a review! It makes my day to hear from you all. :)**

* * *

Christine watched with curiosity as the familiar scenery gradually grew less recognizable, trying to figure out where they could be headed. It felt a bit like a dream—gliding through the darkness without any idea of their destination. Erik drove silently, though she noticed his glance shifting to her every now and again as if trying to gauge her thoughts. Minutes ticked by, and eventually the city faded into only a smattering of houses separated by long stretches of road and trees and sky. She looked around more intently as a thought occurred to her, only to be confirmed a few moments later when Erik turned the car off the main road.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting Erik's home to be like, but it came as a bit of a surprise to her when the headlights of the car illuminated a picturesque little Victorian house nestled in an alcove of trees. The large bay window, the little wooden porch with its carved bannisters… it all seemed so _ordinary_. Erik turned off the ignition and looked at her expectantly.

"So this is—"

"My home," he confirmed. "I thought you might like to see it." He watched her carefully as he spoke, still uncertain whether or not he had been too bold in assuming she would actually be interested in coming here.

She smiled, looking between him and the house, before climbing out of the car to inspect it further. He was right—she was interested to see where he lived. It seemed so obvious now that Erik would live in a plain old house like anyone else and not some… well, she had never actually thought of an alternative. But she also hadn't pictured him living someplace so normal.

Erik came around the car to stand beside her, his lips quirking amusedly as he looked at her. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," she told him. "It's just not what I would have expected."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know," she admitted, looking away embarrassedly. Erik didn't seem to mind, though, much to her relief, and she followed him up the wooden steps to the front door.

The door opened into a small hallway and a flight of stairs, with a living room off to one side. The house was old but looked to have been well-maintained, and she quite liked the character added to it by the rather eccentric-looking collection of furniture and items scattered about. As Christine stepped into the living room, she could see that shelves lined most of the walls, some spilling over with books and some stacked with records. There was a doorway near the back of the room and, seeing her notice it, Erik motioned for her to follow him in. He flicked on the lights, revealing what could only be his music room.

An old upright piano sat centrally against one wall, and cases and stands for other instruments littered the room. The rest of the walls were taken up entirely by towering bookcases, all brimming with music. There were stacks of loose paper strewn haphazardly about, some blank and some covered with notes scrawled with varying degrees of legibility. Christine looked over everything with delight until her inspection of the room led her back to Erik, who stood in the doorway watching her with a slight smile.

"This is amazing," she told him. "Can you really play all these instruments?"

"I can."

She leaned closer to inspect a sheet of the handwritten music. "You wrote this?"

"It's a work in progress."

"Will you play me something that you've written?" she asked, giving him a sweet smile that would have made it impossible for him to refuse her even if he'd wanted to.

"I suppose I can if you'd like."

Christine stepped back to observe him as he took his place at the piano, a little thrill running through her at the knowledge that she was finally about to hear the music that such an incredibly gifted man could produce. She held her breath as Erik paused for a second, his fingers poised just over the keys, and then the room was flooded with the most ethereally beautiful music she had ever heard. The melody was soft and sweet as the music clouded her mind, pushing out all other thoughts; it felt like she was floating. All she could do was stand and listen in awe, watching Erik's hands flit effortlessly across the keys. He seemed as caught up in the music as she felt—his mouth was set in a firm line, but his eyes were closed and his movements flowed with the music as he played. The piece was over too quickly, and everything was still as the final notes faded. It wasn't until it was completely silent that Erik turned back to look at her.

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but it took a moment for words to return to her. "That was incredible, Erik," she said softly. "Really. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth and he ducked his head, and she realized with a little amusement that he was embarrassed. "Thank you," he replied quietly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Do you ever compose professionally?"

"Here and there," he said. "Anonymously. And the pieces I publish are less… distinctive. Wouldn't want to draw too much attention."

"You deserve the attention, though," she told him. "I understand why you wouldn't want it, but you more than deserve it."

"Thank you," he said again, glancing at her with that shy smile that always made her own smile broaden. "Your compliments are plenty for me."

"Well then, I'll have to make sure to give them more often." Pausing, she looked around her for another moment; there was so much in the house to take in.

When her eyes landed back on Erik, he was still watching her with a soft smile. She fit here, he realized, allowing himself to indulge in the thought for only a second before banishing it. It was too easy to imagine her being here regularly—or all the time. She seemed comfortable, interested in the barely contained chaos. Her mere presence brought warmth into the lonely house. But of course she really had no reason to be in his home apart from tonight, he reminded himself. As pleasant of a picture as it was, he shouldn't get used to seeing her here.

"Sorry, it's rude of me to keep you standing in the doorway," he said, standing and motioning for her to follow him back out into the living room.

Christine trailed behind him, taking a closer look at the varied possessions that cluttered shelves and end tables around the room. She paused at the shelves of records, tilting her head to try to read the name on the side of a particularly battered one.

"You're welcome to put one on, if you'd like," Erik told her, and she smiled at him over her shoulder.

"It'll take me all night to choose from such a big collection."

"Take your time."

Stooping to flip through more of the albums, Christine smirked a bit to herself at Erik's remarkably diverse taste—there really seemed to be a little bit of everything in his collection—until she came across an album that sounded good. She put the record on the turntable, and as the lively music of Glenn Miller began to blare through the speakers, she turned to find Erik approaching her, hand outstretched.

She quirked a brow. "What?"

He smiled a little and glanced away. "Remember when I said I would teach you how to dance?"

Nodding, she gave him a playful grin. "Is this the right music?"

"It is."

Slipping her hand into his, she let him pull her into the center of the room, pausing to reposition her herself as he instructed her. They moved haltingly at first, her steps hesitant and uneven as she did her best to follow his directions. She giggled lightly at her own fumbling movements and Erik joined in, although, ever the patient teacher, he was sure to add that she really was doing pretty well. By the end of the song she could do the basic step with some semblance of success, and they began the second song with much more sureness.

"This is fun," Christine laughed as Erik spun her.

"I'm glad you think so," he said with a grin that mirrored her own.

The music played on, and a couple more songs left her grinning and breathless. There was a brief pause between songs and she met Erik's eyes, and the affection in his gaze made her heart speed a little more. He was doing this for her, she knew—to take her mind off the day, to cheer her up—and the thought warmed her. She had tried again and again to convince herself that her feelings for him had only been a silly little crush, that they hadn't meant anything, but as much as she hated to admit it to herself, those feelings had never really gone away, even when she had been happy with Raoul. The realization sent a wave of shame through her, but she pushed the feeling away. There would be plenty of time to feel guilty. Right now, Erik was doing this for her, and it wasn't such a bad thing to enjoy his kindness for a little while, was it?

The slow, sweet strains of a familiar song crackled through the speakers, and she and Erik fell into step with it. She felt his hand tighten on her waist almost imperceptibly, and she absentmindedly stroked the back of the hand she held with her thumb. Taking half a step closer to him, Christine looked up to find him studying the floor. He seemed to feel her gaze, though, and after a second his eyes flicked up to hers. She gave him a gentle smile and tried to ignore the way her breath caught when he returned it.

And then the song was over, and they were left with only quiet static as the needle reached the end of the record. Neither of them moved, and for a moment Christine hoped that Erik might pull her closer and she could have the comfort of his arms around her. But then he took a step back, just a small one, and let his hand drop from her waist. The other remained loosely entwined with hers, and she made no move to pull away.

"It's getting late." If his voice hadn't been so quiet and gentle, it would have been jarring after the stretch of silence. "I can take you home. Or…" he fidgeted nervously, and Christine waited for him to go on. "I do have an extra room. You're welcome to stay here if you'd rather."

"I'd hate to make you drive all the way back to my apartment just to turn around and come back here," she told him. "I can stay if it's not too inconvenient."

He smiled a little. "I would not have offered if it was inconvenient." He paused and glanced away, not entirely sure what to do from here. "Can I get you anything? Some tea, perhaps?"

"Tea sounds nice, thank you."

He nodded and turned to head into the kitchen, reluctantly letting his fingers slip from hers. Her hand was so soft and warm and small in his, and she had stood so close to him, had let him put his hand on her waist. He'd never understand how she could stand to be so close to him—he still couldn't quite understand how she could just reach out and touch him like she did sometimes or even how she could want to be around him so much—but she hadn't seemed wary or disgusted at all. When he had asked her to dance, she had taken his hand without hesitation, and she'd seemed to have fun.

He wouldn't let himself think too long about how much he had enjoyed holding her, how during the last song his only thought had been that he'd wanted to live in that moment forever. There was no point to lingering on thoughts that would only make him long for something that would never happen.

Not wanting to keep her waiting, he quickly set about preparing the tea, but when he returned to the living room she wasn't there. He found her sitting outside on the steps, gazing up at the sky, and he wordlessly sat down beside her and handed her one of the steaming mugs. She accepted it silently, cradling the warm cup in her hands, and as he studied her face more closely he frowned at finding tears streaked down her cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something but wasn't sure of what to say. She noticed him looking at her and quickly wiped away the tears, giving him a watery smile.

"Sorry," she said, sniffling a little. "I'm okay. I just… it was a hard day. …Raoul and I broke up." She felt a little silly saying it, hoping that Erik wouldn't find it too trivial a matter for her to be so upset about. But as soon as she had been left alone, the guilt had flooded through her again. Maybe Raoul had been right about her—true, she hadn't cheated, but wasn't just having any feelings for Erik at all bad enough? Was the fact that she had enjoyed being so close to Erik just now evidence that she might as well have cheated for as horrible of a girlfriend as she'd been? If she'd just let herself acknowledge and work through those feelings, would things have ended differently? She pushed the thoughts away again, not quite ready to look at them more closely.

"Oh." Erik hesitated. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Christine was quiet for a moment as she stared into her tea. "It's probably for the best," she said eventually. "I thought that we might be able to work through some things and meet each other in the middle, but it just wasn't going to work. Maybe it was just time."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset," Erik replied gently.

Another second passed, and she sat deliberating whether she wanted to say more. "He proposed to me," she said suddenly, hardly aware that she had spoken the words, and Erik looked at her in surprise. "This morning. He took me out for brunch and proposed at the restaurant. I told him that I wasn't ready to get married, and we ended up having this huge fight. And he said that if I didn't want to marry him, we should just break up. I think he thought that would make me change my mind."

It was a second before Erik replied. "That does sound like a difficult morning," he said, and she smiled weakly.

"Yeah. It wasn't great." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I just… it was such a terrible fight, and I'm sure he didn't mean all the things he said, but I can't get it out of my head."

Anger flared in Erik at the idea of anyone intentionally hurting Christine. "What did he say?" he asked, trying to keep the hard edge out of his voice.

"He, um, said that I didn't really care about him and that I was just using him for his money. Things like that." Erik shifted agitatedly beside her, and she turned to face him. "Like I said, he was upset and the argument was escalating. People say things they don't mean when they're hurt."

"Him being hurt does not give him the right to say things like that to you," he said, now seriously considering hunting down this boy and making him suffer. "You are the kindest, most caring person I have ever met, and you deserve much better than that."

Christine gave him a small smile. "Thanks for saying that. It'll be okay. It's just the kind of thing that leaves you feeling crappy for a while."

"I'm sure you'll be happier in the long run." Erik had never been particularly prone to optimism, but it was difficult to imagine how Christine could _not_ be better off without this boy, even as little as he really knew about him. Besides, if there was any justice in the universe, surely someone like her couldn't be kept unhappy for long.

"I hope you're right." They sat quietly for a minute, and she took a deep breath, enjoying the cool night air and the soft rush of the breeze blowing through the trees. "It's beautiful out here," she murmured. "You can really see the stars. My dad always loved living in places a little outside the city like this. He liked the peace—he said it let him hear the music in his soul."

Erik sipped his tea, watching Christine with a small smile as she looked off into the night sky. "Did your father ever compose?"

She shook her head. "But he was always making up the most beautiful little songs to play for me. He never wrote anything down, though. I can hardly remember any of them now."

Her voice had grown so soft and sad as she remembered that Erik couldn't bear it. Very tentatively, he put a gentle hand on her back, surprised when she leaned into him until their shoulders touched.

"Thank you for inviting me here," she said after another minute had passed. "Despite the crying, I do feel a little better."

"I'm glad to hear that," Erik told her, his smile softening as she stifled a yawn. "You should get some sleep. I'm sure you're exhausted."

"I think that sounds like a good idea."

She shifted away from him slightly so she could meet his eyes, and her breath caught a little at how close he was. Those intense gold eyes flicked away from hers, and despite how much better she had become at reading him, what little of his expression she could see now was inscrutable. The slight weight of his hand on her back was comfortable, and her arm was warm where it pressed against his side. It occurred to her that Erik might be uncomfortable with this closeness, but he had been the one to reach out to her, and he had yet to move away.

"The room is just at the top of the stairs," he added quietly after a second. "You'll see it."

Christine nodded. "Thank you for letting me spend the night."

"Of course." There was another pause as he glanced away; when he met her gaze again his eyes glowed with intensity that she couldn't quite read. But his lips quickly quirked in a slight smile and his eyes softened. "Goodnight, Christine."

"Goodnight."

She wasn't sure what she was thinking—she likely wasn't, instead acting on pure impulse. But before her weary, muddled mind could catch up with her, she was leaning forward and pressing her lips to Erik's. For a brief moment everything stood still. There was only the hitch of his breath at the contact and the still night around them and the thrill of his lips against hers.

The boldness of the kiss didn't register with her until she pulled away, and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks immediately. She could hardly summon the courage to glance up at him, and his eyes remained downcast. She opened her mouth to speak but found that she couldn't seem to form any words. Instead she stood a little uncertainly and turned to go inside, wishing that she could muster a slightly more collected reaction. But her heart was hammering in her chest and she could only imagine how flushed she must be and the kiss had sent a pleasant little tingle down her spine and it was just too much. Muttering one more "goodnight," she hurried inside and up the stairs without a glance back.

Erik remained sitting on the steps, his eyes following her until she was out of sight, one hand unconsciously raised to touch his lips.


	20. Chapter 20

The early-morning sunlight streaming through the window woke Christine. There was a second of confusion when she found herself splayed across a bed bigger than her own, covered in a pristine white comforter rather than her old quilt, still wearing her clothes from the day before. But it all came back to her in a rush—Raoul, the show, Erik's house… the kiss. She sighed, burying her face in the pillow. She had kissed Erik. It had been so sudden, so rash. She hadn't been thinking. She had just been tired and emotional and the day had been so much and Erik was there comforting her, and she'd half-remembered that night months ago when they had stood so close outside that party and she had first thought about kissing him. And there he was, so close to her again, his hand on her back, and in that second it had felt so right. Everything outside that exact moment, everything beyond the two of them sitting there on the steps together, had suddenly seemed far away. The kiss had been pure impulse, but in the moment it had felt like the only possibility.

The part that stuck in her mind the most was that she didn't regret it, not really. She greatly wished she had not made Erik uncomfortable, that she had not done something that would almost definitely impact their relationship, but the kiss itself… she couldn't shake the thought that the kiss had felt right, like something that had been just a little off finally had clicked into place.

Even so, the thought filled her with guilt. It shouldn't feel right. _Nothing_ should feel right less than a day after she and Raoul had ended things. That wound was far from healing—it hadn't even stopped bleeding—and the last thing she should be thinking about was someone else. What kind of a person did she have to be to want to kiss someone, to _enjoy_ kissing someone, immediately after ending a relationship? True, she could blame it on the breakup. She had been vulnerable and seeking comfort; she hadn't been thinking clearly. If she had, she certainly wouldn't have succumbed to such a reckless action. But it hadn't felt bad or lacking like she would have expected a kiss to feel in that situation. And that made it even worse. Maybe Raoul's words to her hadn't been as far from the truth as she'd argued they'd been. As much as she had tried to deny it, even to herself, she had to admit that Raoul's accusations were not unfounded—just because she hadn't technically cheated didn't mean that she hadn't been unfaithful. She'd grown close to Erik and had done nothing to distance herself even once her feelings became a concern, and now there was no denying the pull she'd felt toward him for so long. That was something that she'd have to face, she knew, but she wasn't ready to deal with it just yet. Right now there was the immediate concern of facing Erik, and that on its own was issue enough.

Knowing that she could only put off the inevitable for so long and that eventually there would be nothing for her to do but go and talk to him, Christine climbed out of bed, attempting to straighten her crumpled clothes and freshening up in the bathroom as well as she could before, assured that she wasn't completely unpresentable, she headed downstairs.

She found Erik in the music room sitting at the piano, running his fingers soundlessly over the keys. He didn't seem to hear her approach and she paused in the doorway, watching for some hint of what might be going through his mind. He looked restless; she wondered how long he had been sitting down here like this. After a few seconds she spoke, her voice soft.

"Hey."

He turned and looked at her. "Good morning." His voice wasn't cold or wary as she had feared it might be, but rather… shy?

She offered him a small smile. "Good morning."

"Did you sleep alright?"

"I did, thank you," she said. "And thank you for cheering me up and letting me spend the night here. I really appreciate it."

"I'm glad I could cheer you up." He paused, shifting a little awkwardly. "Can I get you anything? Do you want something to eat?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

Christine hesitated, wishing more than ever that she could see Erik's expression. She liked to think that she'd gotten pretty good at reading him—his posture, his eyes, the curve of his mouth—but there was still so much that she couldn't guess.

"Listen," she said after a moment. "I'm sorry about last night. Kissing you like that… I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I shouldn't have sprung that on you like I did. I wasn't thinking."

"It's alright." Christine was surprised by the timid rush of Erik's words, and she noticed the red tinge creeping up his neck. "You didn't make me uncomfortable."

She smiled a little, the words sending a rush a warmth through her in spite of the guilt that she'd only just forced herself to set aside. "No?"

"No." The blush deepened. "I found it rather… nice."

She could feel her cheeks heating, the thrill of the confession overpowering the part of her arguing that she was not in a good position to do this right now. "So did I."

Erik's surprise was evident. "You did?"

"Yeah, I did." He looked away, and she was struck with the impression that he didn't really believe her. "I really did, Erik," she said, feeling a little surer after his admittance. "I… I've kind of wanted to do that for a while."

To her surprise, this seemed to make Erik draw further into himself, and she worried that she might have said too much.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, it's okay," he said quickly, still not meeting her eye. "I'm just not… accustomed to this kind of thing."

Christine's brow furrowed. "This kind of thing?"

Erik gestured vaguely. "Affection. Someone wanting to be around me in any capacity, much less…"

The realization of how unhappy Erik's life had been always hit Christine hard, her heart aching as she thought of just how little love he must have ever felt to say now that he was not used to _affection_. There had always been people in her life who she knew loved her—her father, the Girys—and even if she wasn't particularly close with a person, there were always little compliments, some kind of positive acknowledgement in their interactions. She couldn't imagine how entirely devoid of all of that life would have to be for a man to believe that no one would ever want to be around him at all. Her face must have plainly shown her thoughts because Erik spoke again, his words careful.

"There have been very few people who have tolerated me, and even fewer who have been kind to me. My own mother would not kiss me as a child. So your… your presence in my life means a lot." He grew thoughtful, turning away from her. "You would not have kissed me, either, if you saw me," he added, almost to himself.

Christine's stomach knotted at this comment. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it didn't matter, that she had seen beneath the mask and had kissed him anyway. But it would be a confession of her dishonesty, of a shameful moment of weakness in which she had knowingly broken her one promise to him. But wouldn't the knowledge ultimately be proof of her affection that even he could believe? Her mind was made up before she was aware of it; she didn't want to carry this secret any longer.

"Erik," she began, wringing her hands. "Erik, I need to tell you something."

Erik watched her carefully, growing visibly wary at her obvious anxiety. "What is it?"

"Um…" she took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. It would be fine, she told herself. She needed to be honest. It would be fine. "So, remember New Year's when you spent the night at my apartment? Well, I woke up during the night and thought I might have heard something, so I went out into the living room to check."

The words were tumbling out faster as she went on, as if getting the confession over with more quickly would make it better.

"And I, um, you were asleep and I noticed that your mask was a little crooked—"

Erik instinctively raised a hand to his mask, and the panic evident in the small action made Christine dread the coming admission even more.

"—And, I, well, I looked a little bit. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done it, and I feel terrible about it." Erik was silent, not meeting her eyes, and after a few seconds she ventured cautiously, "But I'm still here. With you. That should tell you something, right?"

A long moment passed and he remained completely still. She watched him nervously, searching for some kind of reaction.

"Erik, please say something," she said quietly.

When he finally spoke, his words were breathless. "You looked at my face."

"Some of it," she answered warily. "I'm sorry, Erik, but—"

"You looked at my face," he repeated, colder. She met his eyes and quickly lost the desperate hope that he might possible view the situation positively.

"I'm sorry," she said again, feeling the uselessness of the words.

"Why, Christine?" The question was choked with hurt and rage. She opened her mouth to answer, knowing that nothing she could say would come close to being adequate, but he went on before she could speak. "I asked you for one thing. On the day of our first lesson, I agreed to teach you under one condition. Do you remember what that was?"

"That I would never try to see your face," Christine said softly, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes.

"My greatest secret, Christine. My greatest shame. You promised to leave it alone." He seemed torn between pain and anger, his eyes pleading with her and his shoulders heaving.

"I know," was all she could say.

"I trusted you."

"I know."

And then he stood, towering over her, and with one swift, sudden motion, he tore off the mask.

The shocked gasp that escaped her lips was as much from the action itself as the face it exposed. Seeing a fraction of his face in the near-darkness that night had been one thing. The sight before her now was ghastly, made even more so by the wildness of Erik's eyes. His skin was thin and drawn tightly over his skull, except for the gap where his nose should have been. Every contusion was painfully visible in the morning light, and all Christine could do was look while those deep-set golden eyes bored into her.

"What's the matter, Christine?" he said when she looked away. "This is what you wanted to see, isn't it? Is this enough to satisfy your curiosity?"

"Erik—" her voice came out more weakly than she had expected. She tried to meet his eyes and found that she couldn't. Shame bubbled up in her and her tears spilled over at the realization that this had been exactly what Erik had dreaded. She was shrinking from him, unconsciously backing away until her back hit the doorframe, unable to look at his face; she was confirming his fears only moments after trying to assure him, and she couldn't even make herself meet his eyes.

Erik paused at the sound of her voice, the quiet plea drawing him from the fog of panic. His stomach dropped at the sight of her—flinching, her face turned away. He could see the tears slipping down her cheeks.

She wouldn't look at him.

He lifted a hand to his face, desperately wishing to be met with the barrier of his mask but finding instead his own marred flesh, and he was struck with horror. What had he done? He tried to say her name but it died on his lips.

Christine looked up at the sound of his strangled sob to see him jerkily turn away from her, stumbling back, his hands covering his face. She had wanted to rid herself of the weight of her secret, but now a far greater weight crushed her. He was crumbling in on himself as if he was trying to make himself disappear, hurt and broken, and it was her fault.

Erik flinched and looked away when he saw her move. She was afraid. She was fleeing from him. She had every right to run and never look back, never see or speak to him again. The thought tore at his heart despite the persistent hurt of knowing that she had looked, of knowing that she had looked now and couldn't face him. He supposed that he should be surprised that it had taken this long for something to go horribly wrong, for her to realize that she wanted to be away from him.

But then there was a slight movement near him, and he looked up to see his discarded mask held out to him by a small, trembling hand. After a second he accepted it, turning his back to her to put it on. He hesitated before facing her again, quickly glancing away from her tear-streaked face.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. When Christine finally found the courage to look up at him, he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I'll take you home." His words abruptly shattered the silence, but it was quick to settle heavily over them again.

Christine only nodded, dazedly gathering her things from where she had left them in the entry and following Erik out to the car. Neither of them spoke during the ride back to her apartment. Erik looked straight ahead, his gaze unwavering, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, while Christine tortured herself with thoughts of how things could have been different. If only she hadn't been so distressed to begin with; if only she'd had a moment to prepare herself. She should have been calm and cool-headed, ready to prove to him that she wouldn't be yet another in a long line of people to shun him at the sight of his face. But the moment had been so tumultuous, so overwhelming. She'd been flustered and upset, and surely that was why she'd reacted the way she had, wasn't it? And why had she brought it up in the first place? She had known that she wasn't thinking straight, that she wasn't steady enough to talk to him about how she felt and what she'd done, but in the moment it had seemed like the only thing to do. Those minutes blurred in her mind now, the images distorted by the flood of emotions. She hadn't been so taken aback by his face, she told herself. It had been everything; the moment had just been overwhelming.

Even as she repeated the statement to herself, she wasn't sure she believed it. The uncertainty was a dismal weight in her stomach. What if her reaction would have been no different under better circumstances? What if she would have shrank from him just the same?

Several times she opened her mouth meaning to speak, to apologize, to try to make things right, but even if her muddled mind had been able to form any words, she knew that they wouldn't be close to enough. There was nothing she could say to take back the fact that she had broken her one promise to him and then proved unable to even look at his face. She'd wounded him deeply, in the worst possible way, and she wasn't sure he'd ever be able to forgive her for it. Was it possible that things had been so comfortable and sweet between them only the night before?—that even moments before it went wrong, they had been speaking of enjoying a kiss? What if she had completely ruined that? What if she would never get even a fragment of that back?

The silent minutes in the car stretched out painfully, but they finally pulled up in front of the apartment. Straightening a little, Christine forced herself to look at him.

"I'm sorry, Erik," she told him, the words quiet and hoarse.

Erik made no reply, avoiding her eyes, and after a moment of hesitation she climbed out of the car without another word.

Meg called out when she entered the apartment. "Christine? Is that you?" She poked her head out of her bedroom and frowned when she saw Christine. "What is it? Are you okay?"

Suddenly Christine couldn't breathe. A sob escaped her lips, and then Meg was pulling her into her arms, letting her cry until she couldn't anymore.

* * *

Christine hardly had the will to get out of bed the next day. The one thing that gave her any drive at all was the prospect of a lesson. She hadn't heard from Erik that night, not that she had expected to. But he would be waiting in their practice room this morning, just like always. Maybe they would talk; maybe she could apologize and he would see that, as inadequate as the apology was, she felt it deeply. Of course things wouldn't immediately go back to normal, but maybe they could at least take the first step in that direction. It was optimistic, she knew, but she couldn't entirely stop herself from hoping.

Her stomach was in knots as she rode with Meg to the music building, her mind racing with things that she would say to Erik if only he would hear her. She'd thought about calling him; her finger had hovered over the call button several times, but each time she'd only sighed and pushed her phone away. It would be good for them to have a little time, she'd told herself. She would have some time to compose herself and gather her thoughts, and anyway, it was a conversation that would need to happen in person, not over the phone. Their lesson seemed like just the kind of space that could allow that conversation to happen. Even right after they had met, their lessons had allowed them to have those first moments of connection in the midst of all the awkwardness and uncertainty. And surely just his presence there would be a good sign, wouldn't it? At least it would mean that he wasn't entirely closed off to her.

She had hardly slept at all the night before and felt it acutely as she made her way through the halls. What little sleep she had gotten had been restless, filled with confused dreams of Erik and Raoul, flashes of feelings and memories that were hopelessly muddled and that left her exhausted when she woke. She still felt a little unsteady now, with a haziness lingering over her like that restless sleep was still grasping at the edges of her mind.

It took a moment to process, standing in the doorway of the practice room, that the room was dark and empty. Even as she realized Erik wasn't there, her heart didn't immediately sink. She flicked on the light and sat down on the piano bench to wait. But as the minutes ticked by, the heavy realization that he may not come settled over her. It hadn't really occurred to her that he wouldn't be here—maybe she just hadn't let the thought enter her mind. Now, though, she felt cold to her core. Before she knew it, the hour had passed completely, but she made no move to get up. Every ounce of hope had drained out of her, but she couldn't make herself move. After a while someone else knocked on the door and asked if she was getting ready to leave, and she nodded and numbly relinquished the room.

She was already late for work, but rather than heading there, she made the short walk back to the apartment. It was quiet inside. Peaceful. She slipped off her shoes and slid her backpack off her shoulders, and then she put her pajamas back on and climbed into bed. She still couldn't really sleep—only doze a little off and on—but she didn't think she could make it through the day if she forced herself to try and go about her usual routine. Meg seemed unsurprised to find Christine home when she returned between classes.

"I'm not feeling well," Christine told her, and Meg nodded.

"Do you want some company?"

Christine shook her head. "You have class and things to do. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure. Can I bring you anything, at least?" Meg asked gently.

"No, that's okay."

Meg gave her a sympathetic smile and promised that when she was finished with class they could talk or watch a movie or do anything that Christine felt like doing. Christine gave her a weak smile in return, grateful for Meg's understanding. She hadn't told Meg what had happened, and Meg hadn't pressed her; it was easy enough to arrive at the assumption that there had been some kind of falling out with Erik. With that piled on top of the break-up with Raoul, Meg could come up with more than enough reasons why Christine looked so worn and miserable.

Meg left again a short time later, and the quiet of the empty apartment settled comfortably around Christine. At last able to push all thoughts of the last couple of days from her mind, she curled up in the softness of her quilt and closed her eyes, finally sinking into the soothing depths of sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Wow, you guys, thank you so much for getting this story to 100 reviews! It makes me so happy to hear from you all. Enjoy the chapter, and do let me know what you think!**

* * *

It wasn't until Nadir showed up that Erik realized it had been a week since he had spoken to another person. That wasn't entirely unusual for him—it hadn't been all that long ago that he'd spent nearly all of his time holed up in the safety of his house, avoiding face-to-face contact with others at all cost and interacting online only when necessary. This stretch of undisturbed time shouldn't feel strange to him now, but it did.

He pushed the thought from his mind.

He'd been sitting at the piano, not playing, not thinking, unaware of how much time had passed since he'd sat down there, restless and exhausted and unsure of what else to do. He hadn't even heard Nadir come in, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care about how inattentive he'd become. There'd been a time when he had always been on edge, listening for the slightest movement out of place, constantly ready to defend himself from whatever the universe had to throw at him. And he hadn't even noticed Nadir until the man stood beside him. That didn't seem to matter, though.

Nadir knew him well—well enough to recognize that something was wrong as soon as he entered the house. He asked nothing but stood beside Erik expectantly, taking in his despondent state with more concern than he showed. Erik hardly glanced up at him, and after a moment Nadir spoke.

"You weren't returning my messages. I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Erik didn't immediately reply, and Nadir was just about to press him when he spoke up. "She's gone."

Nadir didn't need to question who "she" was, though his worry deepened at the knowledge that Erik had become so involved with this girl that her absence left him looking so utterly devastated. "What happened?"

Erik's eyes screwed shut against the memory, his hands clenching into fists. "I ruined it," he rasped.

It had all happened too fast. One moment she had been talking about the kiss—if only he could forget that kiss—and he'd wanted so badly to tell her how much she meant to him, how he couldn't believe that she might feel for him even a little of what he felt for her, how she'd brought light into his dismal life. But fear tore at him, insisting that she would be appalled by such sentiments, warning him that this could lead to nothing but pain greater than any he had experienced before. He'd hesitated, and then the rest had happened. Blinded by hurt and anxiety, he'd done the only thing he knew how to do: he'd lashed out. It was only once the haze had cleared from his vision that he'd seen the horror on her face. He'd seen that look every time he'd closed his eyes since then.

The days had blurred together as he'd shuffled aimlessly around the house, sometimes seized by bouts of anger and sometimes wondering why his cruel joke of a life should go on any longer. It seemed he was destined to do nothing but hurt and be hurt, even if the person in question was by far the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Even if she could, somehow, with all of her goodness and kindness, manage to forgive him, how could he ever face her again? Even if she did forgive him, she would certainly never look at him the same way. As much as she might try, part of her would always see the face that lay beneath the mask, twisted with hurt and blind panic as it had been on that morning. No, even if she did forgive him, she would never want to see him again.

It had all been too much to hope for from the start, he knew. Of course she wouldn't want to be with him for long, for one reason or another. Even if this hadn't happened, it was inevitable that one day she would be gone. Perhaps he should even be glad that it happened sooner rather than later, before he had the chance to fall any farther for her. If this hadn't happened, if that morning had remained as peaceful as it had been at the start… He might have told her how his heart had stopped when she'd kissed him, how he had never wanted anything as desperately as he wanted her in his life in any capacity at all, and how when she'd said that she'd found their kiss enjoyable, he'd been utterly overcome. He might have told her that he'd never dreamt of loving someone, never even really _wanted _to love someone, but now the feeling consumed him and he never wanted it to go away, no matter how much pain it might cause him.

But what would have happened then? He could not imagine the possibility of her loving him. She might feel some kind of connection, or she might pity him, but she couldn't _love_ him, not really. How long would she have been able to tolerate him, knowing how desperately he loved her, before she could take it no longer? And then what? He would be left alone just like he was now, only he would be more wretched for having loved her longer.

It was difficult to imagine, though, how he could be worse off than he was now.

The weight of a hand on his shoulder jolted Erik from his thoughts. Nadir still said nothing—a highly unusual occurrence from the man who never seemed to have any qualms about poking his nose into Erik's life. Erik sagged under the understanding that Nadir pitied him. This man had seen him through the darkest portion of his life and had helped him return from it, but even then, Erik had not been one to desire sympathy and Nadir had understood that. For him to offer it now… Nadir must have been able to see just how broken Erik was, and the thought of that left Erik feeling too vulnerable for his liking.

"How long has it been since you ate anything?" Nadir asked, and Erik shrugged. Even normally he rarely had much of an appetite. Part of him wished that Nadir would just let him quietly waste away like he probably should have a long time ago, but he didn't have the energy to fight him on this.

Nadir turned and headed toward the kitchen, and after a second Erik followed him, sitting down at the kitchen table and following Nadir's movements without any interest. Nadir placed a glass of water in front of him, and Erik sipped at it obligingly. Eventually a small plate of food appeared before him too, and he picked mildly at it while Nadir took a seat across from him.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Erik sighed. "She saw my face."

"And?"

Pressing his fists into his eyes, Erik slumped back in his chair. "She told me that she had looked once. And I panicked. I yelled at her and took off the mask. And now she's gone."

Nadir watched him thoughtfully. He wasn't sure if he had been expecting better or worse. "You liked her quite a lot," he said.

"I love her." It struck Erik as odd that a man normally so stoic could be so bad at hiding surprise, but he supposed that Nadir had expected to hear the admission about as much as he had expected to make it.

"You love her," Nadir repeated.

"I shouldn't. I wish I didn't. But I can't help it."

Erik had expected Nadir to reply with some iteration of "I told you so"—he had, after all, warned Erik to be careful. Considering how much Nadir enjoyed being right, especially when it meant that Erik was wrong, this was something that Nadir could hold over him forever. But instead, Nadir's expression softened.

"I don't believe most people find that love is something they can help," he said. "Give it time. You'll find that it hurts less."

"Truthfully?"

Nadir gave him a dry half-smile. "Perhaps give it quite a bit of time."

They sat silently for a few minutes, Erik studying his plate without moving to eat anything. Eventually he looked back up at Nadir to find the man still watching him, concern etched clearly in the lines of his face. He could never understand what it was that Nadir saw in him that made him stay. Erik knew perfectly well that he was a difficult friend at the best of times, but Nadir was always there, whether he wanted him to be or not. And now, though he would never admit it out loud, Erik found that he very much wanted Nadir to be here.

"Back in Iran," he said quietly, "with everything I'd done and everything I was then, why didn't you just let me die?"

Nadir sat back in his chair, thinking for a moment. "Maybe I was tired of seeing death. Maybe the thought of allowing a man to die was too much. But after I started to get to know you, what made me decide to stay with you… I could tell that, despite everything, you weren't a bad man. I suppose I thought that you deserved a chance to find some kind of peace, if nothing else."

"Sorry that didn't work out."

Nadir shrugged. "I still hope that it might happen someday."

Erik said nothing.

* * *

Christine found it surprisingly easy to lose herself in the haze of routine for the rest of the semester. There had been a few shows remaining after those horrible two days, and she had expected that they would be difficult to get through. She found, though, that there was actually some comfort to be had in losing herself in those moments on stage and giving herself as fully to the music as she could. Once those performances were over, she remained devoted to her music, despite the void that Erik's absence left; she had lost too much already to let her music lapse again like she had after her father had died. After so many months of work, relaxing her practice now would only add to the loss. So she continued to practice, doing her best to follow what Erik had taught her, and she delved further into her classes and picked up a few more hours of work and found that, while the dark clouds didn't entirely lift, she wasn't completely unhappy. The ache, though still there, grew less persistent little by little. Keeping busy distracted her from it, at least.

After a while, she found that she thought of Raoul less. There was still sadness there—there was still a bit of hurt and the sting of guilt—but after a few weeks the burden of it started to lift a little, slowly replaced by the resolve that it truly was for the best. She had played over in her mind all of the things that she knew she should have done differently but also all of the times she wished she had stood her ground more. If she hadn't forced herself into denial about her feelings for Erik, her concerns about the relationship, the things that she wanted and didn't want, maybe they could have worked through everything. But, looking back, she could see more and more the times when she'd been unhappy, the times she'd felt unable to speak, the times she'd spoken and felt unheard, and after a while she began to feel that maybe things just hadn't been right. There were things that they both should have done better, but maybe, at the end of the day, they just weren't right for each other. She wasn't happy with how things had ended, but she could at least feel a little more at peace with the fact that they _had_ ended.

She did her best not to think about Erik.

Part of her still wanted to reach out to him, and she thought about it often. At first she had been hopeful that, given a bit of time, after the hurt had faded a little, he might talk to her again. Maybe even resume their lessons. Even if things were strained between them for a while, she hadn't really been convinced that they would end completely, that all contact was severed forever. But the weeks wore on, and every day that she didn't hear from him, she lost a little more hope that he might forgive her. There were so many times when she picked up her phone, her finger hovering over the call button, but something always made her stop. Wasn't it completely reasonable for Erik to want to avoid her? She could hardly blame him, and trying to wedge herself back into his life when it would only cause him pain wouldn't be right. How could she expect him to meet her eyes without seeing the distress that had been written on her face that morning? Why would he want to be around someone who had wounded him the way she had?

His face often haunted her dreams, but it was never the deformity that left her with an unsettled feeling that she couldn't shake when she woke. It was the way his eyes had pleaded with her even through his panic, the way fear and heartbreak and profound self-loathing had been so obvious in his features. She wasn't always sure if her emotions had contorted the memories of that morning, but she knew that that part was exactly as it had happened. Knowing that she had been the cause of that pain filled her with so much shame that she wasn't completely sure that she could face Erik again even if he did want to see her.

But weeks passed without a word from him and she threw herself into anything that would distract her, and in no time at all the semester was drawing to a close.

Having finished her finals, Christine found herself alone in the apartment with the day to pack. Midway through the day, she was collapsed on the couch, already tired and ready for a break. The Nightingale wasn't too far away, and it was a nice day for a walk, and as she thought about it the possibility of coffee became too tempting to pass up. It took some effort to pull herself up from her seat, but then she was heading out into the warm, fresh air, already feeling that the sunlight was reviving her. The walk to the Nightingale was easy, and it wasn't long before the little café came into view.

She nearly collided with someone as she came around the corner and reached for the door and, looking up, was surprised to see Raoul standing before her. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her, and for one uncertain moment Christine almost thought he might simply turn around and walk the other way without a word.

"Hi," she said.

He met her eyes a little awkwardly. "Hi."

There was a pause as she searched for something to say. They hadn't seen each other or spoken since they'd broken up, and seeing him now felt a little weird. It felt like they had been apart for a very long time, and being together now was both familiar and foreign. Raoul opened his mouth to speak but said nothing. It was a few seconds before Christine spoke up.

"So you're graduating tomorrow, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. That's tomorrow."

"Well, congratulations." She hesitated, not entirely sure whether or not it would be best to end the conversation now or forge ahead and try to end on a slightly less uncomfortable note. Someone approached them, and she realized that they were still standing awkwardly in front of the entrance. Stepping aside to allow the person to pass, she gave Raoul a half-smile. "You look good," she offered.

"Thanks. You do, too."

Raoul seemed to have relaxed a little, recovered from the surprise of seeing her again. Part of Christine had hoped that, after the break-up, she would be able to avoid running into him until the semester ended; it seemed likely now that he'd had the same goal.

"How have you been?" he asked after a moment.

She shrugged. "Oh, fine. You know. Busy. How have you been?"

"Also fine," he replied. "Also busy. I was officially accepted into law school, so I'll be starting that in the fall."

Christine's smile was unforced. "Wow, Raoul. That's really great. You must be excited."

"I am. Thanks." Raoul hesitated, his face thoughtful. "Hey, do you want to grab a coffee with me? There's just… I'd like to talk. I don't like how we left things."

"Sure," she said. "I'd like that too."

It was oddly surreal following him into the Nightingale, ordering their drinks and sitting down together as they had done many times before. It really hadn't been that long since they'd broken up, but it felt a little like their relationship had occurred during another lifetime, like things now were subtly but undeniably off—like she shouldn't be here doing this with him anymore. Strangely, she found that a kind of peace settled over her at the thought. Her time with Raoul was over, and that still stung a bit, but she was okay with it. This was how things were supposed to be.

For a minute they just sat, quietly sipping their coffee, the air between them not entirely awkward but still not quite comfortable.

"What did you want to talk about?" Christine prompted eventually.

"I, um, wanted to apologize for how I acted that morning," Raoul said, not quite looking at her. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have said what I did, and I'm sorry."

"Thanks for saying that," she said, smiling a little before her gaze dropped down to the mug in her hands. "I should apologize, too. I wasn't completely fair to you. I should have been more honest about what I wanted and how I felt. Maybe if I had been, things wouldn't have escalated like they did."

Raoul's expression softened. "It's alright." He sipped his coffee, studying her a little more closely. "How are you really? And not just the I-want-to-end-this-conversation-as-soon-as-possible version."

Christine shrugged. "I'm fine. I've been busy, just like I said. Finals have been exhausting and I'm really looking forward to vacation. Meg and I are heading home tomorrow."

"That will be nice. Do you have any plans for the summer?"

"Not really," she said. "I'm just going back to my old summer job. Nothing exciting."

"What about your voice lessons? Are you taking a break for the summer?"

She looked away, taking a sip of her coffee rather than answering immediately. "I'm not taking lessons anymore."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She hoped that she was being at least somewhat successful in sounding nonchalant. There was a pause, but she was relieved when he didn't ask her more about it. "What about you?"

"I'm doing well. I'll be shadowing Philippe at the firm for a lot of the summer, and my aunt somehow roped me into accompanying her to Europe for a few weeks before I start school."

"You must be pretty disappointed about those few weeks in Europe," Christine teased.

"Unsurprisingly, it's not as much fun when I'm escorting my aunt, but I guess I can't really complain," Raoul smiled.

They remained visiting longer than Christine would have expected; the tension and hurt wasn't entirely gone, but it had diminished enough for them to fall into conversation more naturally than before. Raoul's smile was easy and genuine, and Christine remembered how charmed by him she had always felt, even when they were little. She found herself actually enjoying talking with him, feeling more and more like she was catching up with an old friend rather than forcing a casual chat with her ex. Their drinks had long since been finished and they still sat there, talking lightly about easy subjects and carefully maneuvering around anything that was still tinged with bitterness.

When Christine finally did glance at the time, she realized that she had stayed much longer than she'd intended to. "I should get going," she told Raoul with an apologetic smile. "I still have a ton of packing to do before tomorrow and I only meant to run in here to get something to go."

"Sorry to have kept you so long," he said, but she shook her head.

"No, it's fine. It's been nice catching up. I'm glad we ran into each other."

"I am too." Raoul walked with her to the door, and they paused outside just where they had met earlier. "It was really good to see you, Christine."

"It was good to see you, too. Congratulations on graduating, and good luck with everything."

She hesitated, feeling like there was something more that Raoul wanted to say, when he took a step forward and kissed her. It was a second before she could react, and for a brief moment she found herself falling into the kiss. A small part of her mind insisted that this was what she wanted, that it wasn't just that he was familiar and she was a little lonely and more than a little heartbroken. But just like that she caught up with herself and pulled away.

"Raoul, I…"

Raoul looked away. "Okay." He lingered for another second. "Bye, Christine."

"Bye," she echoed, standing and watching him walk away for a moment before she turned to leave.


	22. Chapter 22

It was a strange kind of relief to watch the city disappear in the rearview mirror of Meg's car, and Christine hoped, as she sat quietly in the passenger seat, that some of the memories attached to the city might not be able to reach her so much at home. Logically she knew that she couldn't literally outrun the grief of the previous weeks, but she could hope that some distance might at least lessen the sting.

She still felt a pang as they passed out of the city limits, though, and the car carried her farther away from Erik—farther away from any chance, however slight, of reconciliation with him. She still didn't know if she would even be able to face him if given the chance, much less if he would ever be willing to even speak to her again, but somehow the possibility seemed even smaller now that the town, along with Erik, was behind them.

Being home at least made Christine feel a little more like her old self. There was just enough distance between here and school that she could put the past year out of her mind a little more easily. She fell back into her old summer job waitressing, slept in her old room, ran into people she'd known in high school. It was always a little weird coming back for a long vacation, she thought—it had always felt like she was living in this strange in-between world that wasn't exactly like the past but also didn't entirely feel like the present.

She wasn't sure what Meg had told Mrs. Giry, but though the older woman undoubtedly noticed a change in Christine, she made no comment on it. Christine had still hardly spoken about what had happened with Erik, and Meg, sensing her aversion to the topic, had allowed it so far. Once or twice she had tried to bring it up, asking Christine gently if she was okay, and although Christine felt a little bad seeing Meg worry about her, she just couldn't bring herself to talk about it. The memory was painful enough without having to describe it to someone else, and she wasn't eager to tell Meg about how she'd acted.

As much as she tried to escape the thoughts of Erik, even trying to tell herself that he had surely moved on from her and all she could do was move on as well, the thoughts lingered, often pricking at her when she wasn't expecting it. She was practicing one day, feeling entirely normal, when all of a sudden her breath caught and her throat tightened and she was seized with grief at the thought of never doing this with Erik again. She thought of all those mornings in the practice rooms, of Erik's calm reassurances and shy smiles, and she felt that she would do anything to get those mornings back. She couldn't return to her practice after that, and she found herself downstairs on the couch instead, flipping through channels with restless disinterest. Meg sat down beside her after a few minutes, and it was another minute before she spoke.

"You're moping."

Christine's gaze remained on the TV screen. "No, I'm not."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not moping," Christine insisted.

"Alright, then I'll just have to guess what's bothering you." Meg sat back to scrutinize her for a moment, but Christine didn't miss the flash of playfulness in her eyes. "Are you… sad about how much free time you have now that classes are done?"

Christine couldn't help but crack a small smile at the gentle goading. "No."

"Is it the beautiful sunny weather that's got you down?"

She rolled her eyes. "No."

Meg sobered a little. "Is it Raoul?" she asked gently.

Christine shook her head. "Not entirely, not anymore. I mean, that sucked, obviously. I don't exactly feel great about it. But seeing him again… I don't know. It just felt like that was a chapter that was closed, and I was okay with that."

"So… does it have something to do with whatever happened with Erik?"

Christine looked away. She wanted to tell Meg that no, that didn't bother her much anymore, either. She wanted to insist that she was fine, really, that the sadness Meg claimed to see was all in her head. But Meg could always see right through her.

"Have you heard from him at all since?" Meg asked.

Christine shook her head again.

"Christine, I know that you don't want to talk about what happened between you two. But the longer you don't tell me anything, the longer I see you hurting over this, it just makes me worry about you more. I'm imagining the worst possible things that could have happened. Can you at least tell me how much I should hate him?"

"You shouldn't hate him," she said. "It's my fault. He's completely justified in not wanting to talk to me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Meg told her. "What could you have done that would justify him hurting you like this? You guys were really close. Then, what, you have a fight and he just abandons you?"

"It wasn't just a fight," Christine sighed. Hesitating for a moment, she closed her eyes and let those moments flash through her mind, feeling her throat constrict as she relived it all. "I… I told him that I had looked at his face. It seems so obviously disastrous looking back—of course I should have known that he'd be upset—but at the time… I don't know, I guess I knew that I needed to be honest and hoped that maybe he would find it reassuring or something—that he would see that I had looked and was still there with him anyway and he didn't need to worry about it so much. Of course that wasn't how he saw it."

Meg frowned. "Is that what caused all of this? I mean, I understand him being upset, but this seems a bit extreme."

"That's not all that happened," Christine said, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "He was angry and hurt and I was upset and then… then he took off his mask and I saw his face." Her voice was thick and she swallowed hard. "I didn't react well."

Meg said nothing but put her arm around Christine, who leaned into the embrace gratefully.

"And now he's just gone," she said, stubbornly blinking back the tears that were starting to form; she was so tired of crying. "I haven't heard anything from him since that morning, not a word. I'm sure he'll never want anything to do with me ever again. And even if that wasn't true, even if he would talk to me, I wouldn't know how to begin to make this better. I don't know if I could even face him again. I don't know what I'd say. I hurt him so badly, Meg. I completely betrayed him."

"You didn't betray him," Meg told her soothingly. "You just make a mistake."

"Even if that's true, it was the worst mistake I could have possibly made," Christine said. "He… he told me right before that… that he wasn't used to _affection_. Can you imagine the kind of life you would have to live to be able to say that? It took months for him to start to trust me, to lower his guard around me, and then I turn around and do this. And, God, that kiss—" she stopped, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"You kissed?" There was more sympathy than surprise in Meg's voice.

"Yeah. That night after the show, right after what had happened with Raoul, he was being so kind and sweet and I don't know what I was thinking, but I wanted to kiss him and something in me just made me do it, and it felt _right_." Christine shifted out of Meg's embrace, dropping her head into her hands. "How could I do this to him, Meg?"

"You didn't mean to."

"But I still did it."

They were quiet for a moment, letting the noise from the TV jarringly fill the silence. Christine took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and sat up a little straighter. Saying all of this didn't make her feel _better_ about everything that had happened, but acknowledging it all out loud did seem to lift a bit of the weight from her shoulders. At least there was someone now who understood. It was a minute before Meg finally spoke up.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted. "That's all… a lot."

Christine let out a half-laugh at this, and Meg offered her a small smile in return.

"Maybe if you just give it a little more time. Honestly, Christine, I can't imagine that Erik wants things to be this way any more than you do," Meg said. "Maybe if you reached out to him, just to let him know…"

Looking away, Christine nodded halfheartedly. It was a nice thought, that Erik might be able to forgive her—it was a thought that part of her continued to desperately cling to despite the pain that it caused every day that passed without a word from him. Maybe that was even part of why she hadn't tried to talk to him. He couldn't say no if she didn't ask. But even so, she couldn't fully believe that it was a possibility, couldn't fully hope for it. There had been so many times over the past weeks when she had come close to calling him, but her courage always deserted her at the last moment. Even if she could figure out what to say to him, where to begin, the risk of rejection seemed too great. And what if he did just need more time but she reached out to him too soon and only managed to push him away permanently? She desperately wanted to talk to him, but the risk had been enough to keep her from trying.

Thoughts of Erik sat heavily on her for a few days after her talk with Meg. She couldn't seem to push them away quite as much as she had before. Work couldn't take her mind off everything, and even spending time with Meg and Mrs. Giry couldn't completely distract her. And then came the dream.

In the dream, she was sitting with Erik on the steps of his house, just like she had been the night after she and Raoul had broken up. Everything about that moment was exactly the same as it had been, but it was stretched out into minutes to allow her to take in every vivid detail. The pressure of his hand on her back. The warmth in his eyes that had made her heart speed. The perfect stillness of everything around them. Part of her was aware that it was a dream and knew that she was going to kiss him. She could feel herself lean forward ever so slightly, the space between them diminishing.

She woke just then, finding herself bathed in the dim haziness of just before dawn. Closing her eyes, she wearily sank back into the pillows. Her mind was already aware enough for her to know that trying to return to sleep would be a futile effort. She stayed in bed for a while, though, watching the room gradually lighten around her. The dream had left her with an ache that she couldn't rid herself of. She found herself reaching for her phone with the sudden, half-formed hope that there would be a message from Erik. But there was nothing—of course there was nothing—and she felt silly for looking. It had been two months without a word from him. That wasn't going to change because of a dream.

Something in her had been unsettled, though. She felt preoccupied, though her thoughts never seemed to land on anything in particular. At work she was scolded for fiddling with her phone when she hadn't been aware that she'd even had it in her hands. By the end of her shift, though, a wordless resolve had taken shape. She called Meg while she was walking home.

"Hey, what do you have planned for tonight?"

"Nothing," Meg said. "Why?"

"Could I borrow your car?"

"Sure, no problem. I'm home, so you can have it whenever you're ready."

Christine headed towards home a little faster, determination in her steps. She refused to talk herself out of this. It might go terribly, she knew, but she had to try. It was better than going on as she had been, doing nothing and being quietly miserable.

Meg noticed the change in her demeanor as soon as Christine entered the house. "So you have plans tonight?" she asked.

"I'm going to talk to Erik."

"Really." Meg seemed a bit surprised, though she couldn't suppress a smile. "What changed?"

"I don't know," Christine told her, already moving to get the car keys. "Just… a feeling, I guess. I'm tired of not knowing. Maybe I'll get there and he'll tell me that he hates me and never wants to see me again. That would be horrible, but… at least I wouldn't have to wonder anymore. And if he doesn't hate me, then I'll be glad I didn't wait any longer than this to find out."

Meg nodded her approval. "Good. I'd say it's about time."

Christine hesitated. "What if he says he hates me and never wants to see me again?" she asked quietly.

"He's not going to say that," Meg told her. "It'll be alright. Just because he hasn't reached out to you doesn't mean that he doesn't want to. Maybe he feels the same way you do and just doesn't know what to say."

Nodding to herself, Christine took a deep breath. "Yeah. You're right. It'll be fine. And besides, I need to do this."

"You absolutely do," Meg agreed. "It's a long drive to make there and back tonight, though. Think you'll be okay?"

Christine nodded again. "I have to go now. I've waited too long already, and if I wait longer, I'll talk myself out of it."

"Alright. I'll let Mom know where you are. Call us if you need anything and let us know when you're heading back, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Meg." Hugging her quickly, Christine turned and dashed out to the car, and then she was on her way.

She felt oddly calm as she drove, watching the last remnants of light disappear below the horizon, replaced by the glare of streetlights and headlights. All of the words she had wanted to say for weeks raced through her head, and she carefully sorted through them to pull out what was most important, what needed to be said first. She ran through these words in her mind over and over, determined to be as steady and collected as possible. She needed Erik to hear her out; after that she could only hope for the best.

Her composure began to falter once she turned off the highway, though. Knots formed in her stomach as she navigated down barely-remembered streets in the darkness, and she started to wonder if she'd even be able to find it. But eventually the turn came into view and she pulled into the clearing around the little old house. Not allowing herself a moment of hesitation, she turned off the ignition, stepped out of the car, and climbed the wooden steps that were exactly as they had been in her dream.

Her breath caught when Erik came to the door. It seemed to take a moment for him to register that she was there, and he stood, dumbfounded, as if he still couldn't quite comprehend her presence. She knew she must be quite a sight, standing at his door in the glow of the porch light, still wearing her work uniform, her hair mussed and her eyes a little frantic. Taking advantage of him momentary speechlessness, she spoke before he could.

"Let me just say something, please."

Erik nodded mutely, still staring at her like he wasn't completely sure that she was actually there.

Christine took a steadying breath. "I came here because I miss you," she said, "and because I need you to know how deeply sorry I am. I'm so sorry, Erik. I betrayed you and I did the one thing I had promised not to do, and I know that I hurt you that morning. There's no excuse for it. Nothing I can do can make it better. You have every right to hate me, and if you want me to, I'll leave right now. Just say the word and you'll never have to see me again. I won't bother you."

Erik opened his mouth to speak, but she went on before he had a chance to say anything, the words she had wanted to say for weeks spilling from her.

"But please, Erik, if you think that there's even the slightest chance that you can ever forgive me, please just let me know. I can't stand what's between us right now. I hate not being able to see you or talk to you. I hate not knowing whether or not you'll ever want to see me again. And I'm not just talking about our lessons."

Her voice was becoming choked, and she blinked hard against the tears forming in her eyes as Erik watched her, his expression unreadable behind the impassive mask.

"Of course I want to continue our lessons," she told him. "You've helped me grow and improve so much, and you've made me happy to sing again. I didn't know if I would be able to truly enjoy it again after my dad died, and you helped me do that. You've made me passionate about it in a way that I've never been before. And I'll always be grateful to you because of that. But Erik, you have become one of the most important people in my life, and I can't bear the thought of losing you. I miss you. I miss your friendship. I've never felt close to someone in the way that I've felt close to you, and I thought… I thought, before, that maybe you felt the same way. And if there's any chance of getting even a little bit of that back, I'll do whatever it takes."

This was the end of the speech she had rehearsed the entire way here, but the words unexpectedly left her mouth before she could think.

"Also, I'm in love with you." It took half a second for her to realize that she had really said this, but she found that she didn't regret it. "I don't expect you to feel the same way, of course," she added quickly, "but as long as I'm telling you how I feel, I might as well tell you that."

Silence settled between them, and Christine's eyes fell to the ground. She caught herself holding her breath as she waited for Erik to react. He had watched her carefully through her speech, not quite believing that the whole scene wasn't some elaborate hallucination. She seemed so real, though—her eyes were red but bright, her cheeks flushed, her breathing quick. It seemed impossible that she would come to him, telling him what she had, wanting him to be in her life. It seemed even more impossible that she could be in love with him. But here she was, beyond all reason, telling him just that.

Slowly, he reached out to touch her face, and she looked up at him with such surprise and hope that it made his heart wrench. Before he could stop himself, he was pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly to him as if she might disappear at any moment. Her arms instantly wrapped around him and held onto him just as tightly. Searching for something to say but finding that nothing felt right, he continued to hold her in silence, letting his masked face drop until he could feel her soft curls against his lips. He wasn't sure how long they remained like that, but it didn't feel like long enough even when he knew he should pull away.

"Would you like to come inside?" he asked quietly.

He could feel her nod against his chest. "I would."


	23. Chapter 23

They sat in silence on opposite ends of the sofa, not entirely uncomfortable but not sure where or how to begin. Erik would glance up at her and quickly look away, and whenever she caught his eye for a moment she'd give him a small smile. His lips would quirk a little bit, not quite a smile but an attempt at one. It wasn't exactly tense—the moment they had shared outside had at least proven that they both wanted to reconcile. But figuring out how to start was proving more difficult.

"I must apologize to you," Erik said after a while, his voice quiet. Christine started to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Please. I allowed you to say what you needed to say. Now you must allow me to do the same."

Christine hesitated for a second longer then sat back a little, giving him a slight nod.

"I cannot convey how sorry I am for the way I have acted," he told her. "Both on that morning and since then. I have been cruel, and the only excuse that I can offer is that I was unprepared for what it meant to be hurt by someone I care about because I have never cared about anyone the way I care about you. I'm sorry for how I acted that morning, and I'm sorry that I have been hurting you since then. I've wanted to see you so badly, Christine. But I didn't think it was possible that you would ever want anything to do with me again."

"I don't blame you, Erik," she insisted. "You have every right to be hurt."

"I shouldn't have lashed out at you like I did," Erik replied. "I shouldn't have—" his hand went to his mask.

Christine shifted a little closer to Erik, wanting to reach out and take his hand but not sure he would welcome the touch. "It's alright," she told him. "Really."

There was a pause and Erik finally held her gaze. "I've missed you so much."

She smiled a little "I've missed you too."

"Will you stay?" he asked suddenly. "Just for a day."

She nodded quickly. "Of course."

The relief was clear in his voice. "Thank you."

Christine frowned as she began to study him a little more closely. He looked thinner than before. She hadn't really thought about it, but now that she did, she realized that a change had come over him after they'd met. He looked much the same now as he had all those months ago when she'd met him in their practice room for the first time—gaunt, tense, full of uncertainty. Over the months that they had worked together, he had grown more at ease, livelier. It was strange to see him like this now, and it pained her to know that she had hurt him so much. At least she would have a chance to make it up to him now.

It seemed to her that there was an obvious place to start. It might be too soon, she knew. He might not be ready, and she would have to understand that. But she could at least try.

"Erik," Christine began gently. "I feel so awful about that morning and… and how I reacted. I don't want you to feel like… I mean… I reacted badly and that isn't really how I feel. I'm so sorry."

Erik nodded, though she could tell that the memory was difficult. "You shouldn't feel bad," he said. "I understand."

"No, Erik," she persisted. "You deserve better. It was horrible of me and… and if you think you could somehow manage, I was hoping that you might give me a second chance."

He looked at her for a moment, not quite understanding, or maybe not quite wanting to understand. "A second chance?"

She hesitated. "To see your face." Erik looked away, and she quickly continued, hoping to quell the panic she could see already beginning to rise in him. "You can say no. It's okay. And it doesn't have to be tonight. I know it's a lot to ask, and I only want to do this if you're completely comfortable with it. I just thought… I thought that if I could show you that… that how I reacted before isn't really how I feel, then maybe… I can't take back how much I hurt you, but maybe it would be a start."

Erik sat silently for a moment. She wanted to see his face, and what was more disturbing to him was that he wanted to show her. Part of him was so desperately, stupidly hopeful that somehow she would be able to look at him and not turn away that the desire for this made itself known even though instinct and experience told him to be wary. If he did as she asked and she didn't flinch away or shun him… But wasn't it far more likely that he would lose her again—that she would realize that she had made a mistake in coming back here? Then again, if there was to be hope of real reconciliation, of not just getting on well enough and ignoring anything unpleasant, if she really would be able to stay in his life like she said she wanted to, wouldn't it only work if she knew what she was getting into?

Taking a shaky breath, Erik looked up into her eyes, forcing every warring thought from his mind. She met his gaze steadily, her eyes full of warmth and concern, and he immediately knew that he had his answer. He wanted to give her a chance. As foolish and utterly terrifying as it was, as horribly painful as it would probably turn out to be, he wanted her to see.

"Please," he said, his trembling voice barely above a whisper. "If you can't— …don't feel bad. I wouldn't blame you."

The sad resignation in his words made her heart wrench, and it pained her further to know that there was nothing she could say to contradict him. She couldn't assure him that it would be okay, that she would be different this time. She'd reacted badly before, and as much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she was plagued by the frightening thought that she would react no better this time. But it was different now, she told herself. Everything was different this time. The best thing that she could possibly do for Erik was to prove to him that she saw beyond his face, that she cared for him regardless. Surely she could do that much for him.

She gave him a slight nod, hoping that her expression didn't betray her anxiety. He looked over her face, knowing that this might be the last time he saw the gentle features that made his heart race so pleasantly. And then he closed his eyes and, with shaking hands, slowly pulled away the mask.

Christine held her breath as his face was uncovered, and for a brief moment she was struck with panic that this was too much for one night, that she wasn't ready. It was with a strange sense of relief that she realized that his face was much as she thought she remembered it—there were no surprises, no reasons to dread it as much as she had feared. The deformity was severe, but she refused to let herself shy away. Instead she turned her thoughts to everything that he had gone through, all the pain that he had to have endured in his life to _expect_ that no one would be able to stand looking at him. He'd done nothing wrong and had still been met with hatred until he not only expected it but even believed he deserved it.

Very gently, she raised a hand to cup his cheek. He started at the touch and gasped at the feeling of her small, warm hand so tenderly caressing him. A rush of amazement and relief and incredulity overwhelmed him and he couldn't speak. When he opened his eyes, her face was level with his, full of compassion and something that he didn't quite dare to name as affection. This couldn't possibly be happening. It wasn't possible that she could be here looking at him so directly, so kindly. There was no trace of disgust or contempt in her expression—only softness and warmth.

She watched with a pang as Erik's thin frame began to convulse with sobs, and she drew closer to him, fully taking his face in her hands. "It's alright, Erik," she told him, gently wiping away the tracks of tears that ran down his hollow cheeks. "It's alright."

His hands came up to cover hers, and he heard himself choke out her name—the only word that would fully form in his mind. It was too much. Only an hour ago he had believed that she was gone forever, that she would never want to see him again, and yet here she was now, holding him so gently. He should be humiliated, he knew, that she was seeing him so entirely broken like this. And perhaps he would be later. But right now all he could feel was the overwhelming wonder that this was truly happening. All he could do was cling to her, trying to convince himself that this was real.

Had it not been for the strength of his grip on her hands, Christine would have taken her hands from his face and wrapped him in her arms as tightly as she could. But she didn't want him to fear that she was pulling away from him, even if it was only for a second. Instead she shifted so she could lean up a little bit and, gently, pressed a kiss to his forehead. A strangled sob escaped his lips, and his hands released hers, sliding shakily up her arms to grip her shoulders. She did wrap her arms around him, then, pulling him close. They remained like that for a long time, and eventually Erik's sobs subsided. Christine continued to hold him anyway, and he held onto her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat. When finally he did pull away, she was a little surprised at how easy it was to read the shame on his face without the emotionless barrier of the mask.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, but she shook her head insistently.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Erik."

He straightened a little, attempting to meet her eyes but quickly looking away. "It's late. Perhaps you should let your family know you're staying here. If you still want to, that is."

"Of course I still want to. I'll text Meg and let her know."

"And you can have the extra bedroom, same as last time."

"Alright." Christine started to stand, sensing that Erik wanted to be alone now, but he took her hand and she paused.

"Christine, I—" He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but a sudden wave of self-consciousness stopped him. "Sleep well," he said instead.

She gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. "Goodnight, Erik."

* * *

Christine woke feeling more rested than she had in a while. After repeated assurances from Meg the night before that there was no rush to return the car and that she should make sure everything was settled before she came home, Christine had fallen into bed and was asleep instantly. The day had left her drained, and she had no trouble sleeping peacefully that night. When she woke, one of the first thoughts in her head was that she should have brought a change of clothes—she hardly wanted to stay in her work uniform the whole day, especially after having slept in it.

When she opened the door into the hall, though, she found a neatly folded dress, just like the ones she often wore, waiting for her. She smiled a little in amusement, wondering how Erik might have managed to procure the garment in the middle of the night. Returning to her room, she showered quickly and reemerged feeling fully awake and ready to face the day, whatever it might bring.

She found Erik in the kitchen, preparing breakfast in a surprisingly domestic scene. He looked up when she came around the corner and gave her a shy smile. The mask was back in place, but he didn't seem uneasy. His eyes were bright and his smile, though small, was genuine. She returned it easily.

"Good morning, Erik."

"Good morning."

"Thank you for the change of clothes," she told him. "I really like the dress."

"Good. I figured that you might want a change of clothes." He glanced away. "You look nice."

She felt herself blush a little. "Thank you. Breakfast sure smells good. I'm starving."

"I thought you might be."

"Can I help with anything?"

"No, it's almost ready."

"Okay." She sat down at the kitchen table and watched him for a moment. "So I'll need to go home tonight, but we have the whole day. What do you want to do?"

"I'm open to anything. But I thought, perhaps, that you might like to sing?"

Christine grinned, thinking of how long it had been since they'd last had a lesson. "I'd love that."

"Good." Erik set a plate in front of her and sat down at the other side of the table without a plate of his own.

"Aren't you hungry?" Christine asked when she noticed. "You didn't make all of this just for me, did you?"

He shrugged. "I'm alright." It was a little uncomfortable to eat with the mask on anyway, but he knew that if he mentioned that, she would feel obligated to invite him to take it off, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel that she needed to tolerate his face all the time because she had done it once.

"Okay. If you're sure." They sat quietly for a minute while Christine ate. She felt a little awkward eating on her own while Erik sat across the table, trying not to watch her too closely. But it was nice just to be back with him, and it was thoughtful of him to make her breakfast. He was clearly trying.

"Thank you for breakfast," she said, giving him a warm smile. "This is really nice. Are you sure you're not hungry?"

He returned her smile and nodded. "I'm fine."

"Alright." She hesitated, unsure whether or not to bring up the thought she'd been debating mentioning since she came into the room. "Hey," she said, speaking gently and lightly. "You know you don't have to wear the mask if you don't want to. If you're more comfortable that way, it's fine," she added quickly. "But you don't have to."

"Oh. Okay." Erik seemed uncertain, and Christine returned her attention to the food in front of her, hoping that she hadn't made him uncomfortable. After a minute, though, he reached up and removed the mask, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. She smiled encouragingly and he set the mask on the table, out of his hands but still easily within reach.

Breakfast was soon finished, and Christine was a little relieved as she followed Erik into the music room. While things between them certainly weren't bad, it was clear that they needed to find their footing again. Even right after they had met, when every interaction was so stiff and formal and uncertain, music had been a bond they shared—something that allowed them to exist outside of their normal interactions and grow comfortable with each other. Of course it was what they would gravitate to now.

They took their places naturally—Erik sitting down at the piano and Christine standing to the side—both of them eager to fall back into something so familiar and enjoyable. Erik ran her through a few of their usual warm-ups before turning to her.

"What would you like to sing?"

She thought for a moment before selecting a song, and he nodded his approval, and just like that they were back in their routine as if nothing different had ever happened. Everything seemed to fall back into place without any effort, just as Christine had hoped it would. One song turned into another and then another as the morning slipped past. It was a little less structured than their usual lessons, a little less formal, but it was just what they needed. Feeling more at ease, Christine eventually convinced Erik to try a duet with her and, though he seemed a little timid about it, he was quick to accept.

There were times, while they'd been apart, when Christine had become almost convinced that her memories had to be exaggerating the hypnotic perfection of Erik's voice, the feelings it stirred so deeply in her, the profound rightness of singing with him. She found now, though, that even her memories failed to live up to the real thing. Their voices were a perfect match, complementing each other more wholly than she had thought possible. The beauty of it left her breathless. But it was more than that; it wasn't just the music. Singing with him now… this was how things were supposed to be. She felt complete.

They were both surprised by how much time had passed when they finally paused long enough to check, but that time taking refuge in their music had been well worth it. It felt as if everything was a little less unsteady, a little closer to the comfortable familiarity that they had had not such a long time ago. The tension had gone from Erik's shoulders, Christine noticed, and he didn't seem quite so painfully aware of his exposed face. He seemed less on edge, more like himself.

It had been a little strange being able to watch his expression as they sang—to see his intense focus and the play of emotions when he got swept up in the music. She had seen the affection so plainly written on his features while he had watched her. She'd realized that part of her had been expecting his face to be as unreadable and enigmatic as the mask, but of course now the thought seemed silly. She was careful not to look at him for too long, though, in the hope that she wouldn't make his self-consciousness return.

What Erik found surprising, perhaps even more so than the fact of Christine's presence there at all, was how quickly she could put him at ease. The only other person who was allowed to see his face was Nadir, and even with him Erik often wore the mask anyway—not wearing it left him feeling too exposed for his liking, too vulnerable. And while he wasn't wholly comfortable being unmasked around Christine, it was much easier than he would have imagined. At first he had been absorbed in watching her every movement and every expression, waiting for even a hint that she'd like him to put the mask back on. But whenever she looked at him, her expression was just as warm and gentle as ever, and she'd give him a soft smile that always made his heart skip. Surely, he thought, he would never again be unhappy if she just kept looking at him that way. Soon he found himself thinking of his face less and less; he wasn't entirely unaware of it, but he was at least less on edge, less poised to snatch the mask from its resting place at a moment's notice. And then there was her voice, flooding and filling his senses, and he wondered how it was possible that he could have lived for months without her. As miserable as that time had been, as utterly and unbearably dismal as he'd felt without her, it all somehow seemed even worse now. He doubted that he would survive if he lost her again, but he was quick to push the thought from his mind. She was here right now, and even if this moment turned out to be fleeting, there was nothing that he wanted more than this.

They stood quietly for a moment as the exhilaration of the music settled around them. Erik looked up at Christine, his expression tender.

"You sound lovely as always, Christine," he told her, and she smiled.

"Thank you. I've been practicing, but I couldn't do as well without you there."

"It seems like you managed perfectly well on your own."

She shrugged. "But I'm better with you."

He looked away embarrassedly at this. "I've missed this," he said quietly.

"I have, too," she said. "I've really, really missed you, Erik."

He felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at her, saw the earnestness with which she spoke. He knew that she saw the change in his features—he'd never had much need to control his expressions and was sure that his thoughts were written plainly on his face now—but he couldn't bring himself to look away from her. She gave him a gentle smile, her cheeks growing rosy, before moving to sit beside him on the piano bench. She took his hand without a word, and he wondered what he had possibly done in his life to deserve the small, warm hand in his.

The afternoon passed with much more ease than the day had started out with. They spent most of it talking, though only about inconsequential things. There was almost an unspoken agreement not to revisit the heaviness that they had begun to brave the night before; their time together today was too limited as it was, and a break from the difficult subjects was more than welcome after the emotion of the previous night. Instead Christine told him about finishing her classes, about home and Meg and Mrs. Giry, about the trivial dramas at work and the wildly unreasonable customers she'd dealt with.

Erik listened to it all with genuine interest, grateful for the window into her life and for the friendly chatter that he hadn't realized he'd grown so accustomed to until its absence. He talked a little about some compositions he had started and some architecture work he'd taken on (it wasn't a particularly challenging or interesting project, but it was something to fill his time), but Christine noticed that he deflected most questions about himself, preferring to focus on her. This only added to her growing worry that he'd been doing worse than he was letting on—she'd noticed the change in him more and more through the day, despite how his demeanor steadily brightened. It was almost like he'd started to waste away. The thought unsettled her, but she tried not to focus on it too much. She told herself that she had probably looked to be in a similarly miserable state when she'd shown up at his door last night. He did seem to grow a little livelier with every hour, a little closer to the Erik she'd known a few months ago, and she allowed that to give her a little bit of reassurance.

Finally Christine knew that she shouldn't delay longer, but she was loath to leave Erik. The day had been so peaceful and pleasant, and they had so much lost time to make up for. _She_ had so much to make up for. Even as she reasoned with herself that she would be back soon, she felt that it wouldn't be soon enough. Today, as wonderful as it had been, was only one day. It didn't quite seem real. What if, in the light of a new day and without her there to assure him otherwise, Erik began to doubt whether she'd meant everything she'd said? That fear and insecurity seemed to constantly be on the edge of his mind, waiting for the first opportunity to worm its way into his thoughts. It could take root and they could lose any bit of progress they had made today. And, if she was honest with herself, _she_ was a little nervous, too. He could change his mind, realize that she had hurt him too deeply for him to forgive, and she would lose him again.

Pushing the thought from her head as they reached the door, she turned to face him. "Thank you for inviting me in last night," she said softly. "I'm really glad you did."

"Thank you for coming here," he replied, his voice low. "Thank you for everything, Christine." They paused. "I must admit," he continued after a moment, "there is a part of me that fears that once you leave, all of this will somehow dissolve away and this day will have been nothing more than a dream."

Christine reached out and gently took both of his hands in hers. "I know what you mean," she replied, smiling a little regretfully.

Erik lowered his eyes. "I know that you need to go, and I will not ask you to stay. But…"

"Look at me, Erik," she said, her voice quiet but firm. He met her eyes, and she went on. "I'll be back next weekend, and as often as I can be after that. I'll always come back. Because I want to be here with you. I promise."

Erik nodded. "I will expect you next weekend, then. Drive safely and let me know when you get home."

"I will." Hesitating for a moment to gauge his reaction, Christine carefully leaned up and pressed her lips to his, just as lightly and briefly as she had before. Smiling at the look of amazement on his face, she began to take a step back when his hands tightened around hers.

"Christine." He faltered, and she waited for him to speak. When he did, his voice was quiet, but he held her gaze. "I love you."

A rush of warmth filled her at the words, and it was a second before she felt like she'd caught her breath. Taking a step towards him and standing up on the tips of her toes, she gently took his face in her hands and kissed him again, lingering this time. It was a second before he reacted and put his hands on her waist, and she could feel him trembling. When she pulled away, she found him watching her with a look of absolute awe that made her heart race.

"I love you too," she told him. "I love you, Erik."

It was a moment before words came back to him, and when he spoke his voice was thick. "I cannot believe that I could possibly be so fortunate."

Christine reached for his hands again, squeezing them lightly. "But you will believe it," she told him. "Eventually. I'll make sure that there can be no doubt."

"Please don't change your mind before you come back." The words were light, but Erik's tone was tinged with apprehension.

"I won't. I promise."

"You should get going," he said, giving her a soft smile. "You have a long drive."

She sighed, knowing he was right, and gave his hands one more small squeeze before relinquishing them. "I'll see you soon."


	24. Chapter 24

It was a full week before Christine could come and see him again, and Erik found that each hour passed torturously slowly. The day with her, those last moments, that kiss, had put him in something of a euphoric state, and for a while he drifted around in a dreamlike haze. But the doubt had been quick to edge in on his thoughts. It was so utterly unbelievable that this could have happened to begin with; the possibility of it slipping away seemed all too easy. She could change her mind. She could realize that he was more difficulty than she was willing to deal with. He imagined that she loved not him but a fantasy of him, and if he made one slightly wrong move the illusion would shatter. Surely, the reality of him was not something she would want in her life, and she would realize that quickly.

Besides, for as long as they had known each other and as much time as they had spent together, she knew very little about him. He'd told her almost nothing about his past. And, true, he had wanted to avoid saying much about it for her sake—she was so kind and empathetic that she would undoubtedly be upset to know even half of what he had suffered through. But he'd selfishly avoided the subject for his own sake, too. He was far from blameless. As much pain had been inflicted on him, he'd certainly caused an equal amount. If Christine knew about even the least of what he had done, there was no way she would want to be with him. She'd be horrified. It would completely change how she saw him. Even if his face somehow wasn't enough to make her see him as a monster, knowing the things he had done surely would be. The instinct to bury it all, to hide it from her completely and shield her from the things that he couldn't change now was powerful.

But didn't he owe it to her to be truthful? She trusted him. It hardly seemed right to keep something like this from her when he knew it would alter her feelings for him so dramatically. Didn't she deserve to know what kind of man she was with? Didn't she deserve the opportunity to leave him?

Even knowing this, Erik wrestled with the thought of telling her all week. There was so much that she should know about him that he couldn't possibly tell her everything at once. But the things she should know the most were also the things he feared telling her the most. Every instinct told him not to say anything. She would leave him for good. He'd hurt her. Knowing that, it was terribly tempting for him to convince himself that she really didn't need to know, at least not yet. It was all in the past. It didn't really matter now. The man who had done so many horrible things wasn't him anymore. But, as much as it pained him, he knew he needed to tell her.

The knowledge of what lay ahead of him tinged the week with apprehension. They talked often—she'd call him as she walked home at the end of her shifts, and they'd text throughout the day. Every message from her, every time he heard her voice, would send his heart racing, and a small smile would form unbidden. But then he would think about the conversation they would have when they were finally face-to-face again, and he'd be unable to completely shake the thought of how much it would hurt when she told him she never wanted to see him again. He looked forward to her visit more than anything else, but he also dreaded it.

When the evening of her visit finally came, he found himself standing at the window watching for her car long before he knew she would arrive. Finally headlights flashed in the distance as she turned off the main road, and all of the anxiety that had built up during the week vanished; all he could feel was his intense desire to see her. He couldn't stop himself from rushing outside to greet her, reaching the car before she had even parked it.

Christine was just as eager to see him, not even shutting off the ignition before climbing out of the car, leaving the door open behind her as she hurried to Erik. Beaming, she ran into his arms, holding him tightly as though it had been much longer than a week since they had seen each other. As much as she had enjoyed talking with him, that wasn't nearly as satisfying as actually _being_ with him, and his embrace sent a wave of relief through her. It was a minute before they released each other, and Christine looked up at him with a soft smile.

"Hi."

The mask hid most of Erik's expression, but his eyes were warm and he returned her smile easily. "Hi."

"It's really good to see you."

"I'm very glad you're here," he told her gently.

They turned and retrieved her things from the car before he led her inside. Christine studied him closely as they walked, wondering if it would be okay if she kissed him. He certainly hadn't objected before, but she still had a hard time gauging how much physical contact he was comfortable with, and the last thing she wanted to do was push him.

He hesitated just inside the entryway. "Was your drive here okay?" he asked, fidgeting a little as he stood across from her, not quite sure what to do.

"It was. Traffic wasn't bad and I made pretty good time." She smiled a little and nodded toward the living room. "Wanna sit down?"

"Yes," he said with a bit of an embarrassed laugh. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she told him, laughing a little too.

They settled on the sofa, sitting near each other but not quite touching. Erik glanced at her with a nervous smile, which she returned warmly.

"You don't have to wear the mask," she reminded him gently. "It's fine if you want to. But you don't have to."

He gave a slight nod before, a little warily, reaching up to remove the mask. Christine wondered how many times she would need to repeat those words before he felt secure enough to not put it on around her in the first place. She pushed the thought away, though, and carefully leaned over to press a kiss to Erik's unmasked cheek. She could see the blush creeping up his neck as she pulled away, but it was his shy smile that made her stomach flutter. There was something about such sincere timidity that was terribly endearing.

They remained where they were for a while, visiting about inconsequential things, but Christine began to notice that, as they talked, Erik seemed to grow more on edge, retreating into himself little by little.

"Erik, is everything alright?" she asked eventually, her voice gentle.

He hesitated, glancing at her, and she was alarmed to see a flicker of fear in his eyes. "I've been thinking," he began, unable to hold her gaze as he spoke. "There are things that I need to tell you. About me, about my past. Things that would… change your opinion of me. But you deserve to know what kind of man you're with, even if… even if it makes you hate me. _Especially_ if it makes you hate me. I've told you before that you think far too kindly of me, and allowing you to continue doing so, especially now, is terribly deceitful."

The solemnity of his voice chilled her, but she kept her words as calm and light as she could. "I could never hate you," she told him. "And you're not deceiving me. You've been nothing but kind and good to me since we met, and whatever happened in the past…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I can imagine that you've had a difficult life. And I want to know about it, but only when you're ready to tell me. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Regardless of anything that happened then, I know who you are now. And I trust you."

Erik let out a shuddering breath, her words hitting him painfully. He wished so badly that he could take comfort in what she said, but her words only proved why he had to do this. "No," he said softly. "You should know."

Christine nodded, but when Erik didn't look up she reached over to cover his hand with hers. "Okay," she said. "Tell me."

It was a moment before Erik spoke—the time he'd spent preparing for this made it no easier for him to find the words now. When he did speak, he couldn't keep his voice from trembling. "You know that, before I came here, I spent years traveling. I was alone for nearly all of that time, and on the rare occasion I wasn't… things tended to end poorly. I did plenty of things I'm not proud of, and things only got worse as the years went on."

Christine sat silently, doing her best to keep her expression even. _Years_ alone. That kind of life seemed unimaginable, and his vagueness left her with the uneasy feeling that things had been far worse than he alluded. She couldn't imagine what living like that had done to him.

"I ended up in Iran, where I spent several years. That time was… bad for me. I was very angry. I'd taken to drugs and wasn't in my right mind. I've never felt less human."

Erik dared to glance up and immediately regretted it; the worry so plainly written on Christine's face, filling her kind eyes, made his stomach knot. She hadn't let go of his hand, and for a moment he focused on the feeling of it, letting himself to take comfort in the touch. Surely he should be allowed to appreciate this while he could. She would be gone soon enough.

"Eventually Nadir found me and… stopped me. He was with a special branch of the police, and I knew they were coming for me, and that they weren't the only ones. I'd hoped that he would just kill me or allow someone else to, and he probably should have. But it didn't go as expected and we both found ourselves in danger. In the end he helped me get out of the country and start to get better. But for a long time after that, I couldn't sleep at all. Whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see were the horrible things I'd done."

"Erik," Christine said gently, unable to keep the slight tremor from her voice. "You don't have to tell me."

The man that Erik described was so unlike the man she knew, the man who had always been so gentle and shy. The worst flare of his temper she'd seen had been in a moment of fear, not out of aggression. She could hardly imagine him being capable of doing anything that would haunt him so deeply, or put him in danger. Part of her—a cowardly part, she admonished herself—insisted that she didn't want to know, even hoped that he would simply take her offer not to tell her. But she should know what Erik had been through. She needed to be prepared to hear what he had to say and be there for him; she needed to be strong enough to hear his confession and still assure him that everything would be okay. This wasn't the moment to doubt whether she could handle hearing about his life.

Erik's eyes screwed shut and he pulled his hand away from hers. There was nothing left but for him to tell her. There was no way to soften the confession, no way to make it less horrible. All he could do was force the words out. Christine would hate him. She would be horrified. She would rush out of the house and he would never see her again. But it wouldn't be right for him to keep this from her, to let her be in love with him without knowing what he'd done. He tried to look up, to get a final glimpse of her before she was gone, but he couldn't face her. Taking a shaking breath, he forced himself to speak.

"I was an assassin." The words were choked, and he didn't dare look to see her reaction. "I've killed people, Christine. I've killed people and felt absolutely nothing. There's so much blood on my hands." He paused, adding quietly, "So you see my face isn't the only thing that makes me a monster."

Christine sat completely still, staring straight ahead but not really seeing. She felt like she couldn't quite catch her breath as her brain unwillingly processed Erik's words. An assassin. He had _killed_ people. Her Erik, the man who had become so important to her, the man she'd fallen in love with, was a murderer. Even as she ran the words over in her mind, she wasn't sure it was completely dawning on her—it was as if she knew the meaning of each word on its own but couldn't quite make sense of their greater significance when strung together. Erik had killed people. She caught herself trying to picture it but banished the image before it had time to form. Seconds ticked by in silence. She could feel the anxious beating of her heart, the unevenness of her breath. Her head was swimming, and she was being pulled down deeper and deeper into the mire of incoherent, half-formed thoughts with every passing moment.

It was a movement beside her that caught her attention and pulled the world around her back into focus. Erik had turned away from her, his shoulders hunched and his head in his hands, curled into himself like he was prepared to receive a blow. The pang of sadness at the sight of him focused her thoughts a little. She didn't know how she felt or how she should feel; it would take time for her to fully comprehend what Erik had just told her and to figure out how she felt. But at this moment, what was clear to her was the urge to comfort him. He had trusted her enough to tell her this—he'd _loved_ her enough to tell her this despite knowing that it could change how she felt for him—and waiting for her to react must be excruciating. And while she couldn't exactly assure him of much at the moment, the fact that she was still there with him, the fact that the need to comfort him was so insistent, was at least some assurance she could offer him.

And maybe this didn't _have___to change how she felt for him, she thought suddenly. Erik was the same person he'd been for as long as she'd known him, she reasoned. He hadn't changed, and he couldn't go back and undo things he'd done years before they had met. He was the same man she'd fallen in love with; the difference was that now she knew something that illuminated more of his past, that explained a little more how he had come to be the man she loved. She couldn't deny that the knowledge disturbed her. It was something that she would have to grapple with. But it was also clearly something that haunted him, something he regretted deeply, and knowing about it didn't erase the immense kindness and tenderness he had always shown her. It didn't make the pain she could see in him now more bearable.

His muscles tensed under her hand when she touched his back, but she didn't shy away; instead she snaked her arms around his waist and held herself close to him, resting her head between his shoulder blades. It was a minute before his arms covered hers, and for a while they stayed like that in silence.

"I wish I didn't hurt you like this," Erik said eventually, his voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper. "Christine, I wish I could just become a different person and begin to deserve you even a little bit."

Christine was quiet for another moment. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked carefully her voice coming out weaker than she would have liked.

Erik nodded but made no move to face her.

"After you were… have you… since?"

"No," he said quietly, much to her relief.

"And before?"

"Once."

"Did you have to?"

He nodded again, and she tightened her arms around him. She knew that she would need to ask him about this eventually, but for the moment she had gotten the assurance she'd been looking for. "Okay."

The silence resumed, but neither of them moved. Christine could feel Erik's shuddering breaths and wished that she could pull him closer, that he wasn't sitting so closed off from her like this.

"Thank you for telling me," she said softly. "I know it must be hard for you to talk about and I… I can't imagine what you've been through. I want you to be able to tell me anything you want to tell me."

Finally, Erik shifted to face her, and she was forced to pull away from him, though she was quick to take his hands in hers.

"There have been bad things in my life," he said. "I don't want to burden you with them, but you deserve to know the kind of man you're with. It… it would be more than understandable if you want to go."

Christine blinked hard, fighting back tears. "I don't want to go," she told him, thankful that at least she felt certain about that much. "I need some time to process this, but it'll be alright."

Very gently, he raised her hands to his lips and pressed penitent kisses to her knuckles. He released her, then, and began to turn away, but she took his face in her hands, gently wiping away the tears that had left ragged tracks down his hollow cheeks.

"It's okay, Erik."

He allowed himself to linger in her touch for a moment longer before pulling away. She would come to her senses soon, he was sure. The weight of his confession would hit her and she'd be disgusted at ever having had anything to do with him.

"You should get some rest if you still want to spend the night," he told her. "It's late. I'm sure you're tired."

She nodded and, giving him a small smile, stood and wished him goodnight. The conversation had left her drained, but she doubted that the night would bring much rest. Erik's confession seemed to settle over her more as she climbed the stairs and left his sight. By the time she reached the bedroom and closed the door behind her, she found that tears blurred her vision and her hands trembled. Letting out a shaky breath, she stood in the dark for a minute and, no longer needing to put on a brave face for Erik, allowed the tears to spill over. It only lasted a few moments, though, and, wiping her eyes, she turned to the bathroom to draw herself a bath.

The hot water calmed her nerves a little bit but, left alone in the silence, she finally felt the full weight of Erik's words. Would she ever completely be able to look past this? Would she be able to look at him without thinking of the people that he had killed? It was difficult to imagine that she could ever not be troubled by this. Maybe she shouldn't even _want_ to not be troubled by it. Was it wrong to so quickly want to forgive a man who had killed? He'd taken people's lives. Maybe there had been some little girl who had lost her dad, just like she had, because of Erik. She didn't even know _how many_, and she didn't think she wanted to know. The thought made her feel a little sick. She would have expected to hate someone who had done what Erik had done. Maybe she should even be _scared_ of him. Why couldn't she hate him? What was wrong with her that she actually wanted to be able to move past this?

After a while Christine found herself going through her memories of Erik, looking at him in those memories with the knowledge that he had killed people. For as long as she had known him, this had been part of his past. She thought of every cautious touch, every shy smile, every moment of sweetness they had shared. She thought of how tenderly he'd told her that he loved her only a week ago. It was difficult to connect that Erik—the Erik that she knew—to the angry and dangerous younger man she had learned about tonight. But Erik was Erik. That younger self was part of him, no matter how different he might be now.

The bath relaxed her a bit, but it had done nothing to clear her thoughts; as she dressed and climbed into bed, she was just as conflicted as she had been at the start.

She didn't expect sleep to come easily, if it came at all, but she still made a vain attempt at quieting her mind enough to allow herself to drift off. It was clear that her thoughts would not settle, though, and, tired of trying to sort through the muddle, she let everything wash over her. Lying still in the dark, she allowed free reign to her thoughts. In the flood of emotion and confusion, there was one thought that kept running through her mind, never quite letting her focus completely land on anything else. She loved Erik and wanted to be with him. She wasn't sure how, or if she should feel this way. But somehow, despite how distressed she was by this detail of Erik's past, it hadn't truly changed her feelings for him. The rest might take a while to work out, but she wanted to work it out. At least they had that much.

Feeling a tiny bit more peaceful, Christine eventually began to doze, her troubled thoughts often pushing their way through to disrupt her rest. It wasn't until almost dawn that her mind finally quieted enough to allow a peaceful sleep to settle over her.


	25. Chapter 25

Erik hadn't slept at all that night. He hadn't even tried to sleep; he knew that it would be fruitless. Instead the hours passed in relentless anxiety. He desperately wanted some kind of distraction, but his mind was far too worried and restless to allow for even a little reprieve. All he could think about was Christine—what she was thinking, how she was feeling, if she'd even be able to look at him in the morning. He half expected to catch her coming down the stairs in the middle of the night, hoping to slip out quietly without him knowing, and he'd made up his mind to let her go without argument if she did. She had been so good to him when he'd told her—her apparently endless compassion never ceased to amaze him—but his confession had left her obviously disturbed, and even compassion as great as hers was tempered with logic and self-preservation. And what if she did chose to stay with him, but it wasn't the same? What if she kept her distance, even feared him? How could he live with himself, seeing her unhappy and wary of him and knowing that it was entirely his fault?

It was with equal amounts of relief and dread that he looked up to see her descending the stairs, pulling him from his thoughts, early that morning.

"Hi," she said, giving him a small, uncertain smile, which he did his best to return.

"Hi." There was a pause. "How did you sleep?"

"Okay," she replied, though she was clearly still tired. Erik felt a stab of guilt at the thought of the restless night she must have had.

"I'm sorry." The words were the only thing he could think to say, even as he felt their inadequacy.

Christine shook her head. "It's okay. I, um…" she took a step toward him but hesitated. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Fine. Thank you."

She sighed inwardly, wishing she could get beyond the cautious distance that seemed to have settled between them but not sure how to. If she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure that she was even completely _ready_ to get past it just yet.

"Is it okay if I make some tea?" she asked, hoping that perhaps if she at least had something to keep her hands occupied she might feel a little steadier.

"Of course." Erik followed her into the kitchen, hanging back to stand in the doorway while she went about preparing the tea. "Do you want anything to eat?" he asked after a minute.

"That's okay. I'm not really hungry right now."

The tea finished, Christine took the two steaming mugs to the table and took a seat, setting the second mug across from her. Erik accepted the silent invitation gratefully, though anxiety still sat like a rock in his stomach. Christine glanced up at him as he sat and he quickly lowered his eyes, and though the mask was back in place, it couldn't conceal the fear and regret that must have been written on his face as well. He radiated it.

"Erik?"

Even the gentleness with which she'd said his name made him flinch. He glanced across the table at her but quickly looked away again.

"Erik, I—" she hesitated, looking for the right words. "I've been thinking all night… about what you told me yesterday. I can't pretend that it doesn't bother me, and I need some time to… adjust. But… it hasn't altered my feelings for you. I love you, and that's not changing. I don't want you to worry about that."

Erik sat and studied his tea, silently taking in her words. It seemed so far beyond the realm of possibility for her to be sitting here with him now, telling him that she loved him. Part of him was desperately hopeful and eager to believe her; he wished so deeply to be certain that she really loved him and wanted to be with him, that he might somehow, miraculously, have a chance at happiness with this incredible girl. But he couldn't quite quell the voice that insisted that soon she would realize how wrong it all was, how utterly undeserving of her he was. Or maybe she already knew that and was only here now out of pity for him—maybe it was only her own kindness that kept her from leaving this house without another word to him and removing him from her life for good.

When he finally gathered the courage to meet her gaze, though, he could almost believe that things were exactly as she said. She still looked tired, her smile just a little fragile, but her eyes held nothing but tenderness. Could it really be true? Could she honestly love him even now?

"I'll always worry about it," he told her softly. "I don't deserve you, Christine. It's a wonder that you choose to be around me at all, much less…"

"Love you," Christine finished.

"…love me," Erik echoed with some uncertainty.

"But at the very least, I can do what I can not to add to your worry," she offered.

Erik nodded. "Thank you."

"And it's not true that you don't deserve me," she added. "You deserve to be happy. And I'm happy to be with you, too."

"You are?" It seemed to him that he'd done little but cause her pain recently, but she spoke with complete conviction.

"I am."

She smiled, the warmth still managing to reach her tired eyes, and his heart leapt. He managed a small smile in return, but before he could reply, the sound of the front door opening drew their attention. Christine looked at Erik questioningly, but it was only a second before Nadir appeared in the doorway, starting to call out for Erik but stopping short when he saw the two of them sitting at the table. His brows raised in surprise as he glanced between them.

"Daroga," Erik said, not entirely in greeting.

"I, ah, didn't realize you had company," Nadir said, looking again at Christine, who glanced uncertainly at Erik.

"Yes." Erik shifted. "This is Christine. My student."

Christine stood and offered her hand with a pleasant smile, which Nadir returned.

"Nadir," he introduced himself, shaking her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," she told him. "I've seen you around the Nightingale, haven't I?"

Nadir nodded—he'd thought she looked a little familiar. "It's quite likely. I own the place. In fact, I was just stopping by before I head over there. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's alright," Christine said. "Don't feel like you need to go on my account."

She spoke without thinking, and for a moment she feared that Erik would be unhappy with the additional company. But Nadir was his friend, she reasoned. Maybe his presence would put Erik a little more at ease; maybe it would remind him that there was already someone else who knew the worst about him and still chose to be in his life. She glanced to Erik, looking for some sign of his approval or disapproval of her suggestion.

Erik met her eyes and hesitated for a second. Of course he didn't want to deny her if she really wanted Nadir to stay—he couldn't blame her for not wanting to be alone with him—but the situation wasn't exactly a comfortable one. Things between the two of them were settled enough, at least for the moment, but the scrutiny that Nadir's visit brought could hardly help things. Already he felt tenser, more on edge, and he cursed the part of himself that cared about what Nadir might think of the situation he'd wandered into.

He'd told Nadir that he and Christine had spoken. It would have been difficult to hide that anyway, given the sudden upswing of his mood after weeks of misery. But everything beyond that, beyond the simple fact that they had spoken, seemed so delicate and tenuous that he'd left it at that. _He_ was still struggling to understand how Christine might care about him; he couldn't even imagine what that kind of relationship might look like. How could he possibly explain it to another person? The admission would likely be met with the well-meaning suspicion that Erik could always count on Nadir for, and doubt wasn't something he had any shortage of as it was. Especially right now, with things more precarious than ever. The idea of this being examined wasn't appealing. Not when it felt like one wrong move, however slight, could send everything crashing down.

Besides, he stubbornly insisted to himself, it wasn't any of the daroga's business. This, whatever it was, was between him and Christine.

But Nadir was here, and Christine had invited him to stay, and Erik found himself giving a slight nod of affirmation despite his misgivings.

"If you're sure it's not too much of an intrusion," Nadir replied carefully.

Erik was tempted to reply that Nadir's visits were always an intrusion, but he thought better of it, feeling a slight sting of guilt as he thought of how recently it had been that he'd very much needed those visits.

"It's fine with me if it's fine with Christine," he answered instead, not unpleasantly but not wholly amicably.

Christine smiled in confirmation. "Of course it's fine."

Nadir nodded and took a seat at the table a little uncertainly. They were silent for a second before he turned to Christine. "So you're a student at the university?"

"I am. This upcoming year will be my senior year," she told him. "I'm a performance major, though not a very good one before I started my lessons with Erik."

"She's also very modest," Erik said with a slight, pointed smile.

"And you're staying in town over the summer?" Nadir asked.

She shook her head. "I actually went back home for break, but it's not too far from here and I had a couple of days when I wasn't scheduled to work, so I thought I'd come up here for a visit. Don't want to fall too much out of practice," she added. It hadn't escaped her that Erik had introduced her as his student, and she wondered if Nadir didn't know about the full extent of the relationship. Given Erik's inclination towards privacy, it wouldn't entirely surprise her.

"That's very dedicated of you," Nadir replied. "I imagine you'd need to be dedicated to suffer lessons with someone as demanding as Erik."

The words had been said lightly, and Christine laughed a little. "I'm lucky he has the patience to stick with me. I couldn't have asked for a better teacher."

"There's only so much a teacher can do if his student isn't talented and committed," Erik said, glancing at her but quickly looking down at the table again. "Most of the credit goes to you."

"I would love to hear you sing sometime," Nadir told her. "Erik's compliments don't come lightly and I've heard nothing but praise for you. I have to admit, I'm curious."

"Well, I think we were planning on having a lesson this morning, weren't we?" Christine said, turning to Erik for confirmation and continuing when he nodded. "Maybe you could stay for some of it."

"If you wouldn't mind too much," Nadir said.

There was a pause, and Christine was aware of a slight tension at the table—not anything bad, necessarily, but like something needed to be said. It seemed likely to her that Nadir knew that he was not fully informed, and Erik knew that a conversation he'd been avoiding was coming.

"Why don't I go warm up a little?" she asked Erik gently, hoping he'd pick up on her unspoken suggestion that he talk to Nadir.

He seemed to understand and, telling her that they'd be in in a few minutes, remained at the table with Nadir as she headed into the music room and quietly closed the door behind herself. His eyes lingered for a moment on the spot where she had disappeared from his view before he turned to find Nadir observing him with the same astute, unruffled gaze as always.

"If you're wondering what she's doing here with me, I don't have an answer for you," Erik told him, switching to Farsi almost without noticing. "I assure you I don't understand it any more than you do."

"I'm glad to see that you were able to get past what happened," Nadir replied. "But I am a little… surprised, I'll confess."

Erik sighed, knowing that there was no getting around telling Nadir. He might as well just do it. "It was a little over a week ago. She came here and apologized and said that she wanted things to be right between us. We talked, and she asked for a second chance to see my face. And I gave it to her."

Nadir was unable to hide his surprise at this. He didn't believe Erik had ever willingly shown his face to _anyone_. Even with him, it had been circumstance that had revealed Erik's face, and he had no doubt that it would have been a much bigger deal had they not had other things to worry about. If Erik had shown Christine his face willingly, he must trust her immensely, or be incredibly desperate.

"And?" Nadir prompted.

"She didn't flinch away or ask me to put the mask back on," Erik said, the amazement he'd felt in that moment clear in his voice now. "She accepted me."

"That's wonderful, Erik."

"Then last night I told her about Iran."

Nadir sat up a little straighter, looking at Erik in disbelief.

"I left out the details, but she knows who I was then. _What_ I was then." Erik shifted, glancing back toward the music room, feeling the sudden need to make sure she was still there. Part of him had hoped that saying all of this out loud would make her presence here more comprehensible, but he found himself as far from understanding it as ever.

"How did she react?" Nadir asked.

"She was quiet, but she said she was glad I had told her. Before you came this morning, she told me that she needs some time to process it all but that it hasn't changed how she feels about me." Erik studied his clasped hands, his voice growing quieter. "She says she loves me."

Nadir was quiet for a minute, running through everything that Erik had just told him. Truthfully, he hadn't expected Erik to be so open—maybe part of him _wanted_ to be, wishing for guidance but unwilling to ask for it outright. But it was clear that this went beyond what Nadir had anticipated. While he didn't believe that Erik was a bad man, he had certainly done plenty of bad things. His life was riddled with dark stains, almost too many for a person to bear. For him to willingly offer up information about his past was… significant. Of course he'd known when he'd seen Erik so heartbroken that he was in love, but even then Nadir had thought that perhaps the feeling was intensified simply because Erik had never felt it before. Now, though, it was clear that Erik's feelings were much greater than he'd assumed. Perhaps they were even greater than Erik could understand. They were great enough, at any rate, that Erik was sitting here talking to him about it.

"You seem pretty reserved," he said. "Isn't all of this good?"

Erik shifted. "It's too good. I keep waiting for it to end, for her to realize that she wants nothing to do with me. I've done nothing in my entire life to deserve her, and she'll have to see that eventually."

"Maybe instead of worrying about that, you should appreciate what Christine is giving you and do what you can now to deserve it. You can't change the things that have already happened, Erik. Focus on now."

Sighing, Erik sat back in his chair. He hated having to admit to himself that Nadir was right, but he knew that there was truth in what he was saying. He couldn't change his past, but he could work to be a little worthier of Christine now. He could focus on doing everything he could to make her happy. And, as foreign to him as the concept was, he should enjoy this happiness while he had it rather than dreading its inevitable end. Christine said she loved him, and while he couldn't understand _why_ she loved him, he believed that she was telling the truth. Her love was an extraordinary gift and, regardless of what may or may not happen in the future, he would be a fool not to fully appreciate it.

"I don't know how to do any of this," he muttered, making a vague, helpless gesture. "I don't know how to love her. What if I ruin this? I'm hardly off to a good start."

"I'm not exactly an expert on relationships," Nadir replied. "But in my experience, it's best not to overcomplicate things. Talk to Christine and tell her how you feel."

"What if she realizes that I'm not worth the trouble?"

"She doesn't seem to think that so far," he pointed out. "Why would this be what changes her mind?"

Erik nodded, but he wasn't entirely convinced. He carried far more than his share of insecurities, and it was a burden that he couldn't possibly expect another person to carry, even disregarding his face and his less-than-pleasant history and every other burden that came with him. _He_ was too much of a burden.

"Christine should be ready by now," he said standing abruptly and walking from the room without further comment.

Nadir followed him, not fooled but knowing that pressing Erik would do no good right now. It would take time and patience—and a lot of them—to work through everything that Erik carried with him. And while he had been slowly chipping away at it for years, the task was daunting and clearly not something that he alone could fully accomplish. Maybe Christine would be able to help. At least he could hope so. Given the changes he'd seen in Erik since he'd taken on his student, Nadir believed he had reason to hope.

Christine turned when Erik and Nadir entered, greeting them with a smile. Nadir returned it easily, if a little reservedly; Erik's smile was small, but Christine was thankful to find that it was unforced. He didn't look quite as tense as he had when she had left them. At least giving them some time to talk didn't appear to have made things worse, she thought as he took his place at the piano. There was a brief discussion about what she would sing, and then they began, falling into their roles as easily as ever. It gave Christine a deep sense of relief to know that their music remained uncomplicated no matter how tangled or uncertain other things were. These roles—this relationship—came like a second nature. It was what had bonded them to begin with, and it seemed to almost reorient her now. She caught Erik's eye as she sang and his smile softened, and she knew that he felt it too. This was them at their absolute core, stripped of everything else. And this was utterly, wholly right.

It was a minute before Christine, a little embarrassedly, remembered their audience and turned her attention back to Nadir, who stood in the doorway watching. She couldn't quite understand the nature of his friendship with Erik, though it made sense that they would have a complicated relationship given the history that Erik had only started to tell her about. Eventually she'd want to talk with Nadir more—get to know him better and learn more about his and Erik's history. But today wasn't the day for that. She and Erik had left things on a fragile enough note this morning, and everything had already been so cautious between them even before Erik's confession the night before. Honestly, she wasn't sure she could handle any more revelations about Erik's dark past right now. They desperately needed a chance to find their footing, to settle into this new relationship without another tearful conversation. They needed a calm, normal day to simply be together.

Still, as much as she wanted this, Nadir's presence wasn't unwelcome, at least not to her. Though she could see how Erik might not always feel comfortable under his perceptive gaze, his face was kind, and whatever he and Erik had spoken about had seemed to put Erik a little more at ease. And, she had to admit to herself, though she had hoped that Nadir's presence might do something to reassure Erik, it gave her a bit of reassurance, as well. If Nadir had seen Erik through such horrible things and was still here with him, perhaps she wasn't terribly crazy to still be here herself; perhaps it wasn't so bad of her to still want to be with him.

Nadir smiled approvingly as the song ended. "Beautiful," he told Christine. "You're very talented. Erik, I can see why you wanted to work with her."

"Thank you," Christine said. "I've gotten a lot better since Erik and I started our lessons. He's an excellent teacher." She glanced at Erik as she spoke, glad to see that his posture had grown a little more relaxed and that a slight smile tugged at his lips as she spoke.

Nadir didn't stay much longer, insisting that he really had just wanted to stop by and needed to be heading to the Nightingale. Christine told him sincerely that she had been happy to meet him, and Erik gave him a nod of acknowledgement, still reserved but not unfriendly. And then it was just the two of them again, and they returned to the music room to settle into a peaceful morning.

What started as a lesson quickly became something more relaxed, and eventually it devolved into a series of duets, and then finally Christine managed to convince Erik to play something for her. She felt that she would have been content to sit and listen to the gentle melodies he played all day, and she closed her eyes and let the world slip away from her, glad to let his music fill her senses. The rest of the day passed pleasantly, and neither of them brought up any of the difficult subjects that lay on the peripheries; instead they allowed themselves to fall into the shy happiness that came to them so easily when they were together. In the evening they settled on the couch to watch a movie, and Erik's breath caught when Christine shifted a little closer to him, reaching over to take his hand. He glanced at her and she gave him a soft smile, sending a rush of warmth through him.

They weren't far into the movie when her grip on his hand began to relax, and when he felt the soft weight of her head on his shoulder, he was sure his heart stopped for a second. Carefully so he didn't disturb her, he turned his head to find her asleep, slumped against him with their hands still entwined between them. He felt a brief stab of guilt at how tired she must have been, knowing that he had been the cause of her sleepless night, but the feeling was quickly overwhelmed by the wonder of having her so close. She looked completely peaceful, completely contented, even as she leaned against his boney frame, and he wondered how she could be so comfortable around him, especially now.

He found himself paying much more attention to her than to the movie, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, studied the delicate features of her face, let her soft curls brush against his jaw; he could feel his own breathing slowing to match hers, his own body relaxing into the cushions.

Christine woke before the end of the movie—if she hadn't, Erik was sure he wouldn't have moved a muscle all night. She apologized self-consciously for falling asleep, despite Erik's assurances that it was perfectly fine. And then she settled back into the couch, nestling into his side again, and it was a second before he remembered to breathe. She didn't move until the credits rolled across the screen, and even then she was hesitant.

"Today has been really nice," she said softly, shifting a little to face him but not pulling away from him.

A shy smile formed on his lips at her words, but he looked at her suddenly and his face sobered, his eyes intense. He'd removed the mask during the day at her suggestion, and it still surprised her a little how easy it was to read the emotion on his face.

"Christine," he said, hesitating a little before continuing. "I don't… I don't understand why you're here with me. You are so far beyond the best I possibly could have hoped for, and you deserve someone infinitely better than me. But…" he took a shuddering breath but held her gaze. "As long as you're here, I'm going to do everything in my power to make you happy and to be even a little worthy of you."

Gently taking his face in her hands, Christine gave him a tender smile, and he leaned into her touch. She ran her thumb over his lips and he stilled, as though terrified that the slightest movement would frighten her away. Then she leaned closer and softly pressed her lips to his. He remained frozen for a second, half convinced that she couldn't want him to kiss her and worried that anything he did would be wrong. But these thoughts weren't enough to bury the desire to kiss her, to hold her and be close to her, and he responded after a moment, bringing a trembling hand up to caress her cheek. Then he pulled away, but only slightly, unwilling to completely lose her touch.

"I love you," he told her softly, and she entwined their hands again.

"I love you too," she said.

"I'm sorry." He spoke with a wry smile, but he knew she could tell he wasn't joking.

Christine squeezed his hand. "I'm not," she replied, holding his gaze. "I promise you, I'm not sorry."

_But you will be,_ Erik wanted to say. Sooner or later, she'd regret this. There was no way she couldn't. But he forced the thought out of his mind. He'd resolved to enjoy this time, and he was determined to do just that.


	26. Chapter 26

The days between her visits with Erik passed quickly, but Christine found that she was grateful for a little bit of time in the mindless routine of vacation and her summer job. She had been able to push Erik's confession to the back of her mind for the most part while she had been with him, but it had grown harder to push away and although she wasn't entirely distracted by it, it did leave her feeling unsettled. She knew she should face it, look at it head-on, but part of her insisted that doing so would do no good—she was no nearer deciphering how she felt or should feel, beyond the gut feeling that she still wanted to be with Erik, and the idea of continuing to go in circles through her muddled thoughts was unappealing. Eventually she turned to Meg, though of course she didn't tell her everything—only that Erik had told her something bad about his past and that she wasn't sure what to think. She and Meg talked for a long time, and while Christine didn't exactly come away with answers, she did at least feel more peaceful. She'd known before that she still loved Erik, but now she felt that, though she doubted she'd ever really be comfortable with the knowledge of what he'd done, it was something she could live with and choosing to live with it wasn't wrong of her.

And so it was with a renewed sense of calm that she returned to Erik's house a week later. She and Erik had left things on a good note, all things considered, and they had talked quite a bit in the intervening days, but it would be good to be with him again. It still didn't quite seem real that they were _together_, and that only made her desire to be near him stronger.

Erik was waiting for her to arrive and came out to meet her like he had before, every movement showing the shy excitement that always sent warmth flooding through her. She greeted him with a wide smile, but as she was about to stretch up onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips, she hesitated. Erik rarely initiated any kind of touch at all, and she knew that he tended to be reserved when it came to physical contact. What if he didn't want to kiss her? She hadn't noticed that he'd seemed uncomfortable when she'd kissed him before, but that didn't mean that he welcomed the contact. Surely, if he wanted to kiss her, he'd pursue it a little more actively, wouldn't he? This wasn't the first time the concern had occurred to her, but it struck her with force now. Not wanting to make Erik uncomfortable but also not wanting him to misinterpret her hesitation, Christine settled for a somewhat awkward kiss to his masked cheek.

He almost seemed disappointed when she pulled away, or maybe that was just what she wanted to see—she wished he wasn't wearing the mask so she could read his expression. Pushing the thought aside for the moment, though, she gave him a smile and followed him inside.

But her uncertainty lingered as they settled on the couch, sitting close together but not quite touching, and as they talked she found her attention returning to the space between them. She moved her hand within his reach, hoping that he would notice the invitation. He did glance down, and after a moment of deliberation, she saw him start to move to take her hand. But then he hesitated, and she met his eyes and gave him a small smile before reaching over and loosely entwining their fingers, being careful to give him plenty of opportunity to pull away. Their conversation had paused and, unable to quite remember where they'd left off a second ago, Christine figured that this was as good a time as any to broach the subject on her mind.

"Erik," she began cautiously. "Is this okay? Holding your hand like this, touching, kissing… I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured or anything."

Erik glanced away, and again she wished she could see the expression under the mask. "Have I… have I done something to make you think that?" he asked.

Christine shrugged. "It's just that you never really initiate these things. And that's okay. But I take your hand and kiss you and touch you, and if you don't want me to then I won't. I just want to know."

He sighed, still not meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"For being… like this," he said, gesturing vaguely. "For making you question things like this, for not being able to do things that normal people do without a second thought. I can't even hold your hand without second-guessing myself, convincing myself that you don't want me to touch you."

"Don't be sorry for that," Christine told him, tightening her grip on his hand a little. "But you also don't need to worry about it because that's not how I feel. I love being close to you. And if you're worried that you're crossing a line or something, you can just ask me." She paused for a moment before adding, "And if I ever seem a little hesitant, it's not because of how I feel about you. I'm just worried that I might cross a line for you, or that you feel like you have to hold my hand because I initiated it, or something."

This was something that she'd thought about almost as long as she'd known him, actually. She'd noticed his aversion to contact that very first lesson when she'd gone to shake his hand. And since then she'd become very aware of all the little casual touches that she started to make, even aware of their fingers brushing when he handed her a sheet of music, and she'd always watch his reaction carefully if they did touch. There had been moments when she hadn't thought about it—moments when they'd been close and she had forgotten his wariness and when he had seemed to forget it too. But those moments had always existed in their own world, when it felt like nothing beyond them and that moment existed. They didn't make Erik less cautious, not really. And now that they were together, now that it was more than just a quick hug or a brief touch on his arm, she was even more aware of all of this.

Erik wasn't wrong—with anyone else, she wouldn't have given a moment's thought to taking his hand or giving him a peck on the cheek. And while he didn't seem uncomfortable with the contact, exactly, there was a trace of hesitance that concerned her. If she was always the one to initiate, aside from a few moments when instinct had seemed to overtake his caution, it wasn't much of a stretch to think that he might just be going along with it to please her.

She started when she felt him shift a little closer to her, his thumb running lightly over her wrist.

"You don't make me uncomfortable," he told her quietly, glancing up for a second but quickly looking away again. "Not at all. I love being close to you. But I…" he let out a breath. "I'm terrified of messing this up and I don't want to do anything that you're not happy about."

"I'm happy when I'm with you," she said gently. "You don't need to worry." Carefully, she reached up to cup his masked cheek, running her thumb along the edge of the mask. "May I?"

Erik nodded and she removed the mask, placing it to the side before returning her attention to Erik. She reached up to touch him again, glad to feel the face that was only beginning to become familiar to her rather than the cool, smooth surface of the mask.

"You don't need to worry," she said again, her voice soft.

He nodded again but said nothing, and Christine's breath caught when his gaze flickered to her lips. Nerves were clear in his expression as he met her eyes, but so was affection. She gave him a small smile and a very slight nod, answering his unspoken question. With almost impossible gentleness, he raised his free hand to caress her cheek. And then he was leaning closer, closing the gap between them. The touch of his lips against hers was tender, and for a moment it seemed like the world had stopped spinning around them.

The kiss was chaste, but his heart was hammering in his chest as he pulled away. It had felt terrifyingly and exhilaratingly bold to just lean in and kiss her. He examined her expression for any hint of discomfort, but there was only warmth.

"Was that… okay?" he asked uncertainly.

"It was more than okay," she told him with a gentle smile. "And if you ever wanted to do it again… I'd like that."

"Really?"

She nodded, and he returned her smile.

"I'm happy to hear that," he said, feeling his face grow warm. "And if… if _you_ ever want to… I'd like that as well."

Her smile grew at this. "Good."

* * *

It must have been the very early hours of the morning when Christine woke with a start—her mind was clouded with sleep, and though she had sat up with a startled urgency at the moment she woke, her limbs now felt sluggish and heavy. She was disoriented for a second, rubbing the bleariness out of her eyes and trying to think of what it had been that had woken her so suddenly. A noise… had she heard a noise? As if in answer to her question, the noise came again—the sound of a muffled cry, half sob and half yell—coming from the direction of Erik's room. He'd told her before that he sometimes had nightmares. That must be what this was. Moving automatically, Christine started to climb out of bed, but she hesitated when her feet touched the floor.

If Erik was in distress, of course her first instinct was to run to him, to give him any comfort that she could. But she also knew that he probably wouldn't want her to see him in a state like that. Even she'd be a little embarrassed if he came running into her bedroom in the middle of the night, finding her twisted in the sheets, dazed and half awake and less than dignified. As much as she wanted to comfort him, would her presence only make things worse?

But then there was another cry and she was hurrying down the hall, all hesitation gone at the sound of his suffering. She knocked on his bedroom door, quietly at first and then little louder, calling his name. When no answer came after a few seconds, she pushed the door open. She found him sitting up in bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, his eyes darting around the dark room in terror as sleep refused to fully release its hold on him.

"Erik," she said gently, taking a step into the room. "Erik."

The sound of her voice seemed to draw him a little further out of sleep, though his ragged breaths quickened and he looked around the room more frantically.

"Erik, it's okay," she said, and finally he saw her. There was a pause, but she could see how relief washed over him when she reached his side.

"Christine." His voice was unsteady.

"I'm here," she confirmed, carefully reaching out to cover her hand with hers. "You were having a nightmare." She could feel his hand trembling.

Erik nodded and looked away. "I'm fine now. Sorry to wake you. You can go back to bed."

Instead of doing as he said, Christine entwined their fingers, making no move to leave. The strength of his grip on her hand surprised her, silently contradicting his assurance that he was fine.

"I don't mind staying for a little while. As long as you don't mind having some company, that is," she told him.

Erik surprised himself by nodding, even moving over to make room for her to sit beside him. If it hadn't been so early, if he had been more awake and more aware, if the nightmare hadn't left a vague but unshakable sense of uneasiness lingering on the edges of his mind, he would have insisted that she leave him. This was too intimate; he was too vulnerable.

But then she was beside him, settling back against the headboard and gently pulling him closer, making the invitation clear but leaving him plenty of room for refusal. He allowed her to pull him to her until his was leaning against her, his back against her chest, his head resting in the crook of her neck. One of her arms draped over him, and the other hand came up to stroke his hair. The touch was surprisingly soothing, and despite his nervousness at being so close to her, it wasn't long before he relaxed into the embrace. It wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, but he didn't dare move and risk losing the way the side of her face rested against his forehead, her warm breath brushing his skin as her lips nearly touched him.

They remained like this without saying anything and, afraid that she might interpret his silence as discomfort, he raised one hand to hold on to the arm that lay across his chest, softly stroking her forearm with a thumb. He felt her lips quirk into a small smile, and his heart quickened a little. It was odd, he thought, how much comfort could be derived from such a simple embrace. It wasn't as if the slender arms that held him could actually do anything to protect him or undo the lifetime of memories that still terrorized him in his sleep, but he didn't think he had ever felt safer. They could stay like this forever and he would be perfectly content.

"Do you have these dreams very often?" Christine asked after a few minutes, her voice so quiet and gentle that it barely disturbed the silence.

"Not as often as I used to." After he had left Iran, far worse dreams than this had been a nightly occurrence. For quite a while he had done his best to avoid sleep altogether, forcing himself to stay awake for days at a time in the hopes that when he did eventually sleep, he would be exhausted enough to collapse into a sleep dreamless enough to be at least a little restful. That was rarely the case, though, and he would hardly ever get more than an hour or two of sleep before jolting awake, shaken and helpless to do anything about it. Now the dreams only tended to come once a week or so, even every two weeks if he was especially lucky. They had even become a little less vivid as the memories became more distant. He doubted that they would ever cease entirely, though. There was simply too much horror in his life for him to ever completely escape it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" The soft voice broke through his thoughts, and he gratefully returned his focus to the arms that held him so gently, the warmth of her body pressed to his.

"I never remember much when I wake up," he told her. "The dreams tend to start as memories and just… warp until they don't make sense and it's all just panic and fear."

Christine nodded, deciding not to press him further. Knowing what she did of his life, even as little as she really knew, she could only imagine what kinds of images terrorized him. Sadness welled up in her at the thought of the kind of life he'd had, of how much he must have suffered. He didn't deserve this. She turned her face slightly to press a kiss to his forehead.

The same thought was echoing through his mind: he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve _her_. Here she was, sitting with him in the middle of the night like he was a scared child when she could have been peacefully asleep and worry-free and far away from him. But she was here, and for some reason she seemed determined to stay. The brush of her lips against his forehead, so tender and easy, nearly stopped his heart.

"I had nightmares after my dad died," she said eventually. "I still do, sometimes. It's horrible. Even once you're awake, they just leave you feeling bad."

Erik hesitated before he spoke, weighing his words carefully. "I've found your presence tonight very helpful. I would be glad to return the favor should you ever wish it."

Christine smiled. "That would be nice."

They were quiet for a while, then, and even as her eyes grew heavy, she wasn't quite ready to extract herself from Erik. It was nice to be close to him, so much at ease when their time together was so often tinged with caution and second-guessing. This, now, was easy. It was peaceful and safe, and she wanted to make it last as long as possible. She let her eyes droop shut, allowing herself to drift into that hazy, comfortable place between sleep and consciousness.

Erik remained wide awake, Christine's nearness having the effect of both soothing him into a relaxed lull and making him electrically aware of every slight movement, every breath she took. She was so exquisitely warm, and he wondered if the scent of her would linger around him after she had gone. It seemed so utterly impossible that she would be here; he could barely wrap his mind around her presence, and a small part of him feared that if his focus shifted from her for a moment she would disappear. He needed to memorize this moment down to the smallest detail. He wanted to remember for the rest of his life how wonderful it felt to be held, how utterly perfect everything felt right now.

He didn't realize how much time had passed until the gray light of the earliest moments of dawn began to filter into the room. "Christine," he said quietly, unsure whether or not she was still awake.

She hummed softly in reply.

"Thank you," he told her.

"You're welcome." Erik could hear the sleepy smile in her voice.

"You should go back to bed and get some rest." It was with more than a little disappointment that he righted himself, allowing her to do the same, but he knew that she had stayed long enough.

Christine let her hand trail down his arm as they sat up, giving his fingers one final squeeze. "Thank you for letting me stay," she said quietly. "I'm glad you did."

Erik gave her a small smile. "I am too. Goodnight, Christine."

"Goodnight." She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then her hand was sliding from his and she disappeared into the dark hall.

Erik settled back into bed, comfortable and, surprisingly, relaxed enough to feel the urge to return to sleep. As his eyes drifted closed, his half-conscious mind almost wondered if this night hadn't just been some wonderful, wishful dream. That would be far easier for him to believe. But the faint, sweet scent of her clung to his pillow, lulling him into a peaceful sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Hi, everyone! It's time for some self-indulgent fluff, but before we get into it, I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone reading and reviewing. I've gotten so many extremely kind comments this week here and on Tumblr, and I really, really appreciate them. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story!**

* * *

It was a while longer than usual before Christine could make another visit to Erik's home. At first there had been an unexpected change in her work schedule that left her without her usual days off, and then a long-present chip in the windshield of Meg's car had finally splintered across the glass like a cobweb, putting the car out of commission until paychecks could come and the windshield could be replaced. Erik had offered to drive Christine himself, but she had dismissed the idea, insisting that it would be too much for him to drive round-trip only to repeat the whole journey hardly more than a day later. And so three long weeks stretched out with only phone calls and the promise of the rapidly approaching school year. Soon classes would start and so would their lessons, and they'd see each other every day.

Still, it was a relief when Erik's house finally came into view—it felt like she'd driven away from it years ago, and she had spent every minute of that time looking forward to this visit. Erik hurried out to meet her, obviously no less eager than she was, and she rushed to climb out of the car and wrap her arms around him. Before he could speak she pressed her lips to his, kissing him soundly as his arms tightened around her. She couldn't control the smile that spread across her face when she pulled away, only putting a little distance between them.

"Hi."

Erik grinned, leaning a little into the hand that cupped his masked cheek, wondering for a second why he had found it necessary to put on the mask that prevented him from feeling her warm touch against his skin. "Hi."

"It's been a while."

"Too long," he said. "I've missed you."

Her smile softened. "I've missed you too."

Very gently, Erik leaned forward to kiss her again, every movement cautious and measured. But he could feel her smile against his lips and she returned the kiss tenderly, and the rush of relief he felt mixed with the heady thrill of being able to touch her, hold her like this. When they parted, he had to suppress the urge to chase after her lips, pleading for more.

They went inside and settled on the sofa, as was becoming their routine, and Erik tentatively reached for Christine's hand. She entwined their fingers with an easy smile, and then she lifted her free hand to his face, tracing the edge of the mask with an unspoken question. He understood and nodded, allowing her to remove the mask. Setting it to the side, she brought her hand back to his face, this time caressing bare skin. Erik let out a small sigh at the feeling of her gentle touch.

"I'm glad you're here," he told her. "I know it isn't easy to visit so often."

"It's worth it," she replied. "Besides, it won't be long now until I move back here and we can see each other all the time."

"I hope you know that you'll have a hard time getting rid of me when you're back," he said with a small smile, and she laughed a little.

"I wouldn't want to."

Taking her hand from his face, Erik pressed a kiss to her knuckles, watching her for a moment before continuing. "I've been thinking about it, actually. I know we'll see each other often for our lessons, but you'll be busy with classes and rehearsals and work, too. I want to do something to make things easier for you."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking I could help you pay for your school," he said, glancing away as he spoke. "Then you wouldn't have to be quite so tied to work. You'd have more flexibility."

Christine stared for a moment, trying to read his face. "You're serious?"

"Completely."

Her expression softened. "Erik, that's very, very generous of you, and I really appreciate it. But you know I can't accept that."

Erik nodded with a sigh. "I know."

"Thank you for offering," she said, squeezing his hands.

"Maybe something smaller, then," he suggested. "I could buy you a car so you could get around more easily."

"Erik," Christine smiled, and he ducked his head.

"I know, I know," he said. "Still too much."

"It's very kind of you to want to do something for me," she told him. "But you really don't need to. I don't need enticing to spend time with you, if that's what you're thinking. And if you're worried about us not having enough time together, I'm taking fewer classes than last year, and we'll see each other almost every day for lessons anyway. We'll find plenty of time."

"I know," Erik said again, his voice gentle. "Believe me, I've thought a lot about the time we'll have together. I'm looking forward to it," he added a little shyly, and Christine's smile widened. "But you should know that, if you did let me help you in some way, the most I could do would hardly even be a start given everything that you do for me."

Pushing herself up onto her knees, Christine leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Erik's lips. "You've helped me so much already," she said. "Your offer to teach me completely changed my life, Erik. I wasn't enjoying music anymore. I was close to giving up. And even beyond that, I just… wasn't very happy. You gave me back my love of music. You made me want to work and improve at it, to actually _strive_ for something. You made my life so much richer and fuller without even knowing it. You make me so incredibly happy, Erik, and you have since the day we met," she told him with a soft smile. "You don't need to do anything else."

Returning her smile, Erik leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, hesitating for only a moment before lowering his lips to hers.

The rest of the evening passed quietly, both of them happy to sit and talk, their hands remaining linked between them. Although they had spoken frequently between visits, Erik was still eager to hear about even the mundanities of her life; he asked her about her job and about Meg and Mrs. Giry, listening with interest as she described people from high school who she had run into, Meg's adventures teaching a preschool aged class at Mrs. Giry's studio, her own burgeoning restlessness and readiness to return to the hectic days of classes and rehearsals and lessons. He told her about a new architecture project he'd taken on, about a composition he'd been working on, about plans he had for their lessons once the semester started and they were able to meet regularly again. The prospect of returning to their normal lessons was one that they both found exciting, and it occupied their conversation well into the night.

The next morning was taken up by a decidedly less formal lesson than they had discussed the night before. With a relatively unlimited amount of time at their disposal, they could leisurely work their way through as much as they wanted, often choosing duets over the songs and exercises that would have taken up the bulk of their more regimented practice. As eager as she was to return to their normal lessons, Christine was more than happy to let today be what it was. There was just nothing like singing with him. Eventually she came to sit beside him on the piano bench, letting their arms brush as he played.

"Hey," she said, turning to him with a smile when they finally agreed to take a break. "Why don't we go sit outside for a bit? We've spent the whole morning in here and it's such a pretty day."

Erik hesitated a little. "I suppose," he said after a second, but Christine's brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I just… I don't often spend time outdoors. I feel exposed."

"Even in your own yard? But Erik, you don't have any neighbors," she pointed out. "No one can see you." This observation was made so genuinely that he nearly laughed.

"I suppose it is a bit silly," he allowed.

"No, it's not silly," Christine said gently. "I understand why you'd feel that way. But I think you might actually enjoy it."

"Alright," Erik agreed with a chuckle. "Let's go."

Christine grinned and, pausing to pick up her book and grab a blanket off the couch, headed out through the kitchen and into the back yard. Erik followed her outside, blinking in the bright sunlight, a little surprised by the unusual feeling of the light breeze against his face. Christine hadn't been wrong—the yard was completely private and there really wasn't a reason for him to avoid going out without his mask—but he did feel a little too exposed for his liking. Instinct was warning him that he was leaving the house without his mask, insisting that there would be dire consequences. He did his best to shake the prickle of self-consciousness, though, instead joining Christine where she had spread the blanket on the ground.

She had settled down atop it, her book untouched at her side as she just sat for a moment, taking in the beauty of the day. Erik moved to sit beside her, feeling too lanky and bony and awkward as he situated himself into a comfortable position on the ground. He felt hyper-vigilant, paying attention to every noise and every movement in case something was out of place. The gentle smile that Christine gave him put him a little more at ease, though, and he had to admit that the sun _did_ feel pleasant, especially given that he was usually cold. This wasn't too bad, he decided—something that he could get used to, even. He turned to survey the yard for a moment, wondering if perhaps he should plant some flowers or something—Christine would certainly like that, wouldn't she?—and when he turned back to her, he felt his mouth run dry.

Christine had leaned back, her eyes closed and her face turned toward the sky, a faint smile on her lips as she let the sun warm her. She had shifted so that her legs stretched out in front of her, and the hem of her dress had ridden up high on her thighs. One of the thin straps had slipped down her shoulder, and Erik found his eyes drawn to the expanse of bare skin. He looked away quickly, his face growing hot at the thought of being caught staring at her like that, but the image of her, the idea of him trailing kisses down her throat and along the soft skin of her shoulder, of running a hand up her bare leg, remained planted in his mind.

"You okay?" Her voice drew his attention back to her, and he felt a rush of shame as he met her eyes.

"Okay?" he managed.

"Yeah, is being out here okay?"

"Oh, yes," he said, clearing his throat. "Yes, you were right. This is nice."

She gave him a small smile, and he did his best to return it before glancing away, hoping that she didn't read the guilt on his face. What was he doing, thinking about her like that? She may care about him, and she may be okay with holding his hand and kissing him occasionally, but she certainly wouldn't want more than that with him, and she'd be mortified to know about the images that had just flashed through his mind. Or worse, she might feel obligated to go along with it. Not that he was even prepared for any of that, anyway—he was only starting to not feel uncomfortable reaching out to her, and even now every touch was careful and measured. He couldn't imagine mustering the boldness to actually go beyond their current limits, or even to suggest that he might want to. It was out of the question, and he needed to forget about the whole thing.

"So you really don't come out here normally?" Christine asked.

"It's honestly never really occurred to me," he told her, glad to have a new topic to turn his thoughts to. "I purchased the house for the property, but that was just to avoid having neighbors. At the time I had no interest in anything but total seclusion. I suppose that leaving the house at all felt like a breach of that seclusion."

"You started leaving eventually," she pointed out. "You've gone to events at the school. You started teaching me."

He smiled a little at that—it was a fluke that he would never stop being grateful for. "I would get bored sometimes," he said. "That was what got me out of the house more than anything else. I would go out with the attitude that I was testing my limits—seeing how long it would take before something bad happened."

"Did anything bad ever happen?"

He thought for a moment. "Not as bad as I was used to, I suppose. Nothing more than a few stares and the occasional comment. But it was always enough to make me feel exposed, and I'd gladly return home."

"What did you think was going to happen when you offered to teach me?"

Erik smiled a little and shook his head. "I honestly don't know. I didn't think you'd agree, at least. But it wasn't exactly something that I had thought through too carefully. And then—" he hesitated, ducking his head a little. "And then I was sure that something _very_ bad had happened, because I couldn't stop myself from falling in love with you."

When he glanced at Christine again, he found a soft smile on her lips. Shifting to be closer to him, she leaned up and kissed him gently. "That definitely wasn't a bad thing."

"It was the second best thing to ever happen to me," he told her, and she looked amused.

"What was the first best?"

His expression sobered a little. "You loving me."

Christine's smile widened and she kissed him again. "You know you're a bit of a romantic," she murmured against his lips.

He hummed in reply, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, feeling pleasantly dizzy at her nearness and the boldness of kissing her and the exhilaration of such free affection. Perhaps there was hope for him after all, he thought—just a month ago he would have been nervous to make such a speech, as small and true as it was, and now the words had come without thinking. It felt natural to tell her that he loved her and to accept her affection in return, and it felt so _good_. Little by little, all of this was becoming easier. And while he had to admit that that scared him a little, it was thrilling. It didn't change the fact that he had no right to be thinking about anything more than this, of course; this was already far more than he'd ever imagined having, and it was plenty.

When Christine pulled back a little, it was with a small smile. "So when was the first time you knew that you loved me?"

Erik sat back and smiled thoughtfully. "I'm not sure exactly when I _started_ loving you. But do you remember the night that I took you to pick Meg up from that party?"

Christine nodded.

"Standing so close to you outside that house, holding your hand—that was the first time that I admitted to myself that I had feelings for you." Her smile had widened as he spoke, and he met her eyes briefly before looking away, a little embarrassed. "And you? When did you know that you… love me?"

Christine bit her lip. "I don't know exactly," she said. "I think I was in love with you for a while, but I didn't want to acknowledge it since I was with Raoul. I think it was probably over New Year's, when I came back here early, that I really felt it."

Erik could feel a blush creeping up his neck—that was much longer ago than he'd expected, and he couldn't help the rush of pleasure that the knowledge gave him—and then she continued.

"But… that night at the party, I wanted to kiss you."

He looked up sharply, feeling as though he wasn't processing her words correctly. "You… you did?"

She nodded, blushing a little herself. "Yeah. …And there were a few other times." The disbelieving stare she received made her laugh a little. "What?"

"I just… have a hard time imagining that."

Her smile softened. "Well, let me help you."

His breath caught as she shifted closer to him, and then her lips were on his and she was caressing his face and his head was swimming and it was all he could do to kiss her back. He supposed that this kind of thing shouldn't really take him by surprise at this point—Christine had told him over and over that she loved him and wanted to be with him, and while he still found the whole idea of it unbelievable, he believed that she meant it, at least. But that was one thing. For her to actually be here with him, telling him about how she'd wanted to kiss him, embracing him so tenderly, felt like another thing entirely, and it was almost too much for him.

She seemed to sense his overwhelmedness and pulled away, still gently cradling his face as she met his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Erik nodded, finding himself suddenly unable to speak but bringing his hands up to cover hers. "Yes," he said after a second. "Yes, I just… I'm happy."

"Promise?"

He nodded again, smiling a little. "I promise."

Satisfied with that and not wanting to push him further, Christine placed one more quick kiss on his lips before settling back beside him. She lay back on the blanket and closed her eyes, stretching out serenely in the warm sun; Erik watched her for a moment before deciding to follow her lead and easing himself down. She turned her head and smiled at him as he lay down, and when he was settled she reached for his hand. He entwined their fingers gratefully and watched as her eyes drifted shut again, a peaceful expression on her face. Maybe one day all of this would make sense—maybe eventually he would understand what she was doing here with him, why this perfect girl cared about him. But for now, even if he didn't understand it, he was more than happy to enjoy it. The soothing presence of her by his side, the reassurance of her hand in his, the pleasant warmth of the sun on his face—none of it made sense, but he was incredibly glad for it.

For once relaxed and contented, he closed his eyes.


	28. Chapter 28

In what felt like no time at all, Christine found herself moving back into the old apartment with Meg, all the worn furnishings just as they had left them, the creaky places in the floor and the spots on the wall where the paint had chipped all exactly as they had been months ago. As much as she enjoyed vacation, she was glad to be back. Much of her summer routine had started to grow monotonous, and she was eager to return to the more active schedule of the school year. Of course, classes starting also meant that she would be seeing Erik every day, and that was certainly no small factor in her enthusiasm.

Meg was less excited.

"What's the point of moving all of our stuff back up here if we're just going to leave again in nine months?" she griped as she hauled a box of her things into her room. "In fact, why even come back at all? Why can't they just give us our degrees now? It's close enough."

Christine smiled to herself where she stood in the kitchen unpacking their few dishes. "I think the university would probably disagree with that."

"Well, sometimes it's hard to admit when you're wrong." Meg reappeared in her doorway, leaning against the doorframe and pulling her hair up into a bun. The heat of the day wasn't making unloading the car any more pleasant. "Did I tell you about how last semester my advisor tried to convince me that I was missing some math credits and might have to graduate a semester late?"

"That would be unfortunate."

"Luckily it's not true. That old man did the exact same thing my first semester, trying to make me take a history class I didn't need. He just can't be bothered to read my transcript. It must have taken me half an hour to make him realize that I already had the math credits. He was convinced that I was just trying to avoid calculus."

Christine gave her a sympathetic smile. "At least you're almost done having to put up with him."

"And do you know what he said to me?" Meg continued, picking up steam. "He said that I shouldn't be worried about having to take a math class because there will be plenty of boys willing to help a pretty girl."

Christine made a face. "Yikes."

"I know, right? I complained about him to the department head, as if _that_ windbag is going to do anything about it."

"Only a matter of months before we're done," Christine said, and Meg gave her a wry smile before turning to get another load of things from the car.

"Not soon enough."

Christine's smile faded into thoughtfulness as she finished unpacking the box that sat on the counter. She did share some of Meg's readiness to be done with their final year, but she also found herself a little hesitant. In so many ways, it felt like she was only now beginning to hit her stride—she felt settled into the routine of college life, she and Erik were together, and she had just started really making progress on her voice last year. As excited as Meg was about the prospect of post-college life, Christine wasn't sure she was ready for all of this to be upended just yet. Soon she'd be on her own, trying to make a name for herself, and the prospect was more than a little daunting. Still, she told herself, shaking the doubts from her head, there was plenty of time between now and then. She'd be ready by the time graduation came.

She looked up at the sound of footsteps, expecting to find Meg carrying another box of her things but instead finding Erik cautiously stepping into the apartment. A grin spread across her face when she saw him.

"I hope you don't mind me stopping by," he said, giving her a small, embarrassed smile. "I'm sure you're busy so I won't keep you long. I just wanted to see you."

"I don't mind at all," Christine told him, hurrying over to press a quick kiss to his lips. "You can stay as long as you want if you don't mind the mess."

"I don't mind," he replied. "Do you need any help?"

"I think we should be fine. Meg's probably bringing in the last of what's in the car, so we basically just need to put everything back where it was before."

"Are you sure I won't be in your way?"

She smiled, squeezing his hand. "Completely sure. I'm glad you're here."

Meg reappeared, then, announcing proudly that the laundry basket full of miscellaneous items she carried on her hip was the last of their things. She waved at Erik as she walked in, apparently unsurprised to find him there, and Erik nodded in reply.

"It's been a while," Meg said, pausing to set down her load. "Did you have a nice summer?"

"It was very pleasant," Erik said, his eyes darting to Christine as he spoke. "I imagine you enjoyed your break."

"I did. I was teaching some classes at my mom's studio. The kids could be a handful, but it was pretty fun. It was a nice break from school, at least."

"Meg's not too thrilled to be back," Christine told Erik.

"Classes haven't even started and somehow I'm already feeling both antsy and apathetic," Meg confirmed.

"Do you have plans for after this year?" Erik asked.

Meg gave a noncommittal shrug. "I'll audition for some local ballet companies and help Mom with the studio, mostly. I'll move if an opportunity comes up, but right now there's not anywhere in particular that I'm really aiming to be. Keeping my options open for the time being."

Christine was embarrassed by the slight pang of jealousy, small though it was, at the ease with which Meg talked about her plans—there was a big difference between being open to possibilities and being uncertain, and she wished that she could also lean more toward the former.

What struck Erik was the word _move_. The question about Meg's plans had been automatic—the kind of question that you almost couldn't help but ask someone, nothing more than the easiest way to have a conversation. It hadn't quite occurred to him that he could ask Christine the same question. Her most likely course seemed fairly obvious—she would probably move to pursue a career on Broadway. That seemed like the logical thing to _him_, at least. Even if that wasn't her plan, it didn't seem likely that she would stay here, and the possibility of her wanting to continue seeing him after she left seemed overly optimistic at best. Could their time together really be so limited? He shoved down the cold ripple of anxiety, unwilling to think about that likelihood just now, though the idea still left a vague sense of unease lingering in his stomach.

"That sounds like a sensible plan," he told Meg, trying to refocus his thoughts to the present moment.

"Thanks. It's not the most glamorous thing, but I'm looking forward to it. I'd better go start unpacking," she said, gesturing toward her room, "but it was good to see you."

"You too," he replied, though he was too preoccupied to be surprised that the sentiment wasn't untrue. With that, Meg disappeared into her room, and Christine nodded toward her own.

Erik followed her in, hesitating a little in the doorway and realizing, as he took in the still-bare walls and the boxes stacked in one corner, that he'd never been in Christine's room before. He had always remained in the living room, some unconscious boundary preventing him from giving the room more than a quick glance as he passed by. Even now, as stripped as it was, it felt… intimate.

"Sorry it's a bit chaotic in here," Christine said, pushing the things she had piled on her bare mattress to one side so Erik could at least have a place to sit if he wanted. "The complex makes us take all of our stuff out over the summer even though we renewed the lease. I guess it's a liability for them or something if we leave things in an unoccupied apartment. Makes moving back in a bit of a pain, though."

"That would be a pain," he replied, unsure if her action was an invitation for him to come further into the room. "I can leave if you want some time to get settled. I know you just arrived and I wouldn't want to be in your way."

"Erik, I promise you're not in the way at all," she replied, her smile turning a little shy. "I like having you here. I might just unpack a little while we talk, if that's okay."

"Of course."

Watching Christine as she moved to the stack of boxes and carried one across the room to her dresser, Erik took a cautious step into the room, and then another, until he stood at the side of her bed. It was with no less caution that he took a seat in the space that she had cleared, his eyes remaining on her, part of him braced for her to react. But she only gave him a small smile when she turned and saw that he had moved, and then she went back to transferring her clothes from the box to the open dresser drawer. Erik relaxed a little at this, though his attention remained carefully focused on her, waiting for any sign that his presence was unwelcome.

"So I have a bit of a break before I have to start work," Christine was saying. "My first shift isn't until the second week of classes, so I'll actually have nothing to do for the next couple of days."

"Good," Erik told her. "You deserve a break. What do you plan to do with your days off?"

"Mostly just hang out and do nothing. Read a book, get some quality girl time with Meg. But I was hoping that maybe we could fit in a lesson or two before classes start?"

Erik smiled at this. "I'd like that."

"Perfect."

Pushing aside the emptied box, Christine moved to get another, pausing when she noticed him gently fingering the worn quilt that sat folded beside him.

"My mom made that," she commented, and Erik's hand stilled, as though he was suddenly worried that he shouldn't touch it. "It's okay, you're not going to hurt it," she added quickly. "It's been all over. It made every single move with me and my dad. It was one of the few things that did; my dad wanted to make sure I had something of my mom's to keep."

She smiled a little to herself at the memory of the stories her dad would tell her about the warm, incredible woman she wished she could have known.

"Dad told me that, right after they got married, she went through this super domestic phase and wanted to make all these things to make their apartment feel homey. She saved up for this second-hand sewing machine that barely ran, and she kept working on the quilt even when he expected her to throw the whole thing out the window. But finally she finished it, and it's one of the only things that we never got rid of, even when we had almost nothing."

Erik ran a finger over the soft fabric. "It must be nice to have something to remind you of her."

"Do you not have anything of your mother's?"

He shook his head, and Christine felt a stab of guilt at having asked when she knew very well that he hadn't had even a fraction of the closeness to his family that she'd had.

"I only found out that she had died a couple of months after the fact," he said, his voice only carrying the slightest trace of regret. "By that time, everything had been given away. There wasn't anything that I would have wanted, though—I don't have the most pleasant memories of my mother."

Christine had sat down beside him as he spoke, covering his hand with hers; the matter-of-factness with which he said all of this somehow made her sadder.

"I'm sorry," she told him, and he gave her a small smile.

"It's alright."

Of course, nothing about it had actually been alright—or, at least, it hadn't been until recently. Erik had long wondered how different his life might have been if things hadn't been so strained with his mother. For a very long time it had been hard not be let himself be entirely consumed by that bitterness as he though of the hurt she had caused him, the horror that he could have avoided if he hadn't decided to escape that stifling, secluded life with her. But despite all of the pain that had filled his life, Erik knew that he would suffer through ten times worse if it meant he'd get just one more moment like this: Christine sitting next to him, gently stroking his hand, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He meant it when he told her that it was alright. All of that was worth it if it led him here.

* * *

Soon classes were upon Christine again, bringing with them a kind of comforting familiarity. She easily fell into her routine, for once feeling like this was something she could take on. Of course, the best part about the new school year was, by far, returning to her regular lessons with Erik.

It did feel a little bit strange now that things between them were so different. They'd worked on music over the summer, but it had never been as formal or regimented as their normal lessons. In their practice room, Erik was her teacher, and when she crossed the room to greet him with a kiss when she met him in the morning, she nearly hesitated; it felt just a little off, like traces of the stiff formality of their first lessons had returned. Erik had seemed aware of it too, greeting her with just a little more uncertainty than usual. It was like there were two versions of them, of their relationship: there was the still-timid relationship that had started growing over the past couple of months, and there was the old relationship, preserved just as they had left it back in the spring. It wasn't uncomfortable, just a little unsure.

Despite this, it wasn't long before they started settling back in. It felt good to return to their normal lessons—it had been so long since they'd had one, and returning to this more disciplined practice felt to Christine like stretching her muscles after sitting for a long time. It was a relief to work like this again. But even beyond that, it was exciting. She knew now exactly what improvements working with Erik could lead to, and as she looked at the year ahead of them, imagined the strides they would make, she felt more confident and enthusiastic than she ever had before. It was hard to believe that only a year before she had been questioning all of this, on the verge of giving up on singing entirely. Now there was no doubt in her mind that this was what she wanted.

It was near the end of a lesson a couple of weeks into the semester that Erik paused. Christine watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say whatever it was he clearly wanted to say.

"I, um, have something for you," he told her, looking down a little shyly.

She smiled at the unexpected announcement. "A present? What's the occasion?"

He met her eyes again. "It was one year ago today that I heard you singing in this practice room." Her smile widened, and he continued. "After I slipped you that note, I realized how crazy the whole thing was and figured I would never see you again. But, by some miracle, you gave me a chance. You made my life worth living for the first time ever, Christine, from that very first lesson."

It took a moment for her to find her voice, a little overwhelmed by his words. "I can't believe that was a year ago," she said softly. "It's been one of the best years of my life."

Erik's smile grew. "After that first lesson, I started composing without any idea what I was writing. But I could hear your voice in my head, and all I knew was that I needed to get the notes down. I've kept coming back to it over the past year, but I think it's ready for you to hear."

Grinning with anticipation, Christine stood back to watch him while Erik turned back to the piano. His fingers were poised over the keys for only a moment before he began to play, and the music quickly flooded Christine's mind until it was the only thing she was aware of. The notes were sweet and gentle, and she imagined that she could hear their year together—nervousness and excitement, tenderness and fear, their tentative friendship forming and growing. But above everything else, she could hear his love for her. It consumed her, filled her completely until she thought her heart would burst. There hadn't been any doubt in her mind that Erik loved her, but to experience it so intensely like this, expressed in beautiful melodies that spoke to her very soul, was overwhelming. Tears pricked her eyes; how could she have gotten so lucky to find this wonderful man who loved her so very, very much?

When the song ended, a moment passed before Erik turned to look at her, timidly waiting for her reaction. Christine opened her mouth to say something, but even if she had been able to find the words to describe how utterly incredible the song had been, she doubted that she would be able to speak around the lump in her throat. Instead, she crossed the room and sat beside him on the piano bench, taking his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his. The kiss began gently, but then his arms were around her and he was pulling her closer, and she deepened the kiss instinctively, slipping her tongue past his lips and eliciting a small gasp from him. For a second she feared that she had overstepped, but then he was responding, tightening his arms around her and kissing her back.

When they parted, Christine could only find the will to put a slight bit of distance between them, relishing the feeling of his breath on her cheek and his fingers buried in her hair. "I love you," she told him, feeling as she spoke that the words weren't enough.

Erik didn't seem to think so, though; the soft, grateful smile he gave her filled her with warmth. "I love you too."


	29. Chapter 29

Rain pattered softly against the window of the music room; outside the sky was filled with thick, gray clouds that gave no indication of dissipating anytime soon, and the world was cool and damp from the rainy morning. Erik had picked Christine up from her apartment a couple of hours earlier, coffee and pastries from Nadir in hand, and they had spent the morning happily ensconced in the music room. Christine was a month into the semester now, and this week had been a particularly busy one. And while their lessons ensured that they did spend some time together, there hadn't been much time for anything beyond that. Erik had made no complaint, knowing that it was to be expected that school would keep her busy and that her life could hardly revolve around him, but he had felt her absence keenly. So when she had suggested that they spend a leisurely Saturday together—a rare Saturday when she wasn't scheduled to work—he had eagerly agreed.

"You'll have to teach me how to play someday," Christine said, sitting beside Erik on the piano bench. "It's such a beautiful instrument. I took a beginning piano class in high school, but it seems like such a shame to only barely be able to play."

"I'd be happy to teach you," he replied. "I imagine you won't have much trouble advancing."

"Of course, it'd also be horribly embarrassing to play so poorly in front of someone who does it so beautifully," she added, nudging him.

"You could have a secret talent for it and be better than I am after a week," Erik replied. "You never know."

Christine laughed at this, and he cracked a smile. He often found himself searching for some way to express how _good _all of this felt—"I've never been so happy" was a low bar to set, and even if it hadn't been, what he felt was more than that. For the first time in a very long time, maybe ever, he not only felt alive, but felt that being alive was _worth it_. Before, it had been a victory if he woke up not dreading the fact that yet another day was ahead of him. Shuffling through the rest of his life without a major incident had been the absolute best he could have hoped for. But now there was purpose and joy. Every moment he spent with Christine—every laugh, every smile, every kiss—was a moment that he wouldn't even have been able to imagine only a year ago. He tried not to think too much about why she could possibly want to be with him, as he couldn't conceive of the answer and dwelling on it only made him anxious, but he didn't think that they had spent a single moment together over the last few months when he wasn't silently thanking the universe for allowing this.

"I somehow doubt that that would be the case," Christine told him. "Hey, do you mind if I go make some tea?"

"I can get it," he said, standing before she had a chance to object. "You just relax and enjoy your day off."

Christine laughed to herself as he hurried off and, left alone in the music room, she could hear the patter of the rain outside, falling just as unrelentingly as it had been all morning. The sound was relaxing and energizing at the same time; it could lull her to sleep but it also made her want to run outside and dance in the rain like a child. Standing from her spot on the piano bench and stretching her arms over her head, she leisurely crossed the living room and made her way to the front door, cracking it open and leaning against the doorframe to enjoy the cool air. The damp breeze chilled her, instantly raising goosebumps over her bare arms, but the smell of the rain and the crisp fall air was too tempting not to enjoy. Everything was so peaceful; she could almost imagine that Erik's little house was all the existed in the world.

After a few minutes, Erik appeared at her side, and she gratefully accepted the steaming mug he held out to her. "Aren't you cold standing here?"

She shook her head. "No. I think it's nice. Relaxing."

He hummed his agreement as she leaned into him. For a while they were content just to stand there, watching the rain and letting its soft sound fill the silence.

"Christine?" he said quietly after a while.

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy?"

"Um… yes," she said, a little surprised by the question.

"I mean happy with me. With us. Is everything… going okay?"

She turned her head to look up at him. "I'm incredibly happy with you, Erik."

"I know that I… don't make things easy."

"That's not true," she told him. "I mean, sure, there have been some times when something felt a little uncertain, but being with you is the easiest thing in the world. When I'm with you, I feel so happy and comfortable without even thinking about it. I feel like things are going very well. Don't you?"

"I do," Erik said, his voice soft. "Christine, I'm so unbelievably happy with you. So much so that I suppose it… scares me a little."

Christine set down her half-empty mug and shifted more fully to face him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "What do you mean?"

Erik hesitated, struggling a little to find the right words to describe the feelings that he hardly even understood. "I… I've never had something like this before. I've never felt this way for someone—not even close—and I know it's only a matter of time before I mess up or before you come to your senses and leave."

Christine sighed, pulling herself a little closer to him. "You don't need to be worried about that. And I think that eventually you'll believe that too. But I know what you mean. When something seems almost too good to be true, you're afraid to hope that it'll last, but you also can't imagine being without it. You know I feel that way about you, don't you?"

Erik was quiet, and she tightened her arms around him, pressing herself into his chest.

"I love you," she told him gently. "And the thought of this not working, of not having you in my life, scares me too. But we don't need to worry about that, right? Because things are good and we're happy."

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her. Of course she was right—there was no sense in worrying about something if there was nothing that could be done about it right now. He wished he could just be someone different for her, someone less broken who could fully believe her when she told him that she wanted to be with him, someone who didn't burden her with his abundant insecurities. He wished that that doubt, banished mostly but never entirely to the back of his mind, would just go away—that he could enjoy being with her now without the fear that it wouldn't last.

Perhaps there was hope, though. Her words had struck him. He wasn't sure that it had occurred to him that she could _possibly_ feel the same way he did. Knowing that she had thought about the possibility of them not being together and found the thought unpleasant was oddly reassuring.

They stayed standing there in the doorway for quite a while, just watching the rain. Christine stood with her back pressed to Erik's chest, his arms wrapped around her waist and her arms covering his. Closing her eyes, she let her head settle back to rest in the crook of his neck. Erik let out a small, contented sigh, dropping his face so that her curls brushed his lips and breathing in the familiar strawberry scent of her shampoo. He wasn't aware of how long they had stood there until he felt her shiver.

"Cold?" he asked with a slight smirk.

"A little bit," she admitted, smiling embarrassedly.

"Can I get you a sweater?"

She nodded. "That'd be nice, thanks."

Erik disappeared into the house without another word, and Christine watched him start up the stairs before she stooped to collect their mugs and turned to follow him inside. It was still relatively cool in the house and the chill lingered on her skin, and in a moment another shiver ran through her. But then Erik was back at her side, holding out the promised sweater, and she accepted it gratefully.

"Thank you," she said again, pulling the too-large garment over her head. The sleeves fell nearly to the tips of her fingers, but she liked the feeling of being wrapped in something of Erik's. "This is much warmer."

"Good. I'm glad."

The warmth in his eyes and the shy smile on his lips as he looked at her made her stomach flutter. Taking his hand, she led him over to the couch and tugged him down to sit beside her. She pressed a tender kiss to his lips and he returned it happily.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" she said softly.

Erik nodded, though it was hard not to be distracted by the way she was running her fingers through his hair.

"Why is it that you see yourself ruining what we have?" The question was gentle, but there was a quiet sadness to it that made his chest tighten. "You've said that before, that you're worried that you'll mess things up. Do you really think that's what's going to happen?"

He gave a little shrug. "I don't see how that could _not_ be what happens. I don't exactly have experience forming and maintaining positive relationships. The only person who's ever stayed in my life is Nadir, and that's entirely his doing—lord knows I've never made it easy for him. And even if it's not any one particular thing that I've done that drives you away, at the very least you'll get tired of dealing with me."

Christine's brow had furrowed, and seeing the sadness in her expression, Erik quickly went on.

"You wouldn't be to blame at all, Christine. You're never anything but patient and understanding. And believe me, it wouldn't be because I don't want to be with you. I want that more than anything," he told her softly. "I just… I know that I'm… broken. And I can't imagine that you'll never reach the point where you don't want to be with me anymore."

Christine was quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say, of how she could reassure him. "There may be some moments when things are difficult," she said after a moment. "There are in any relationship. But that doesn't mean that _being with you_ is difficult. You make my life so much better, Erik, and I love you so incredibly much. And not just the things that you do. I love _you_. All of you." She took his face in her hands, urging him to meet her eyes. "I don't know if there's anything that I can say to convince you, but it's the truth, and I think that eventually you'll start to believe it. But until then, I'm here, and I want to do anything I can to reassure you."

Erik nodded a little, pulling her closer. "Just be here," he murmured, and Christine pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Of course," she said, wrapping her arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

He hummed in contentment as she stroked his hair, and his arms tightened around her waist. After a moment he started to pull away, but she still held him tightly, and he made no protest.

"And you're not broken," she told him softly. "You're not, Erik. You're a whole person, and you're wonderful. You're not going to mess this up."

"You're far too good to me," he sighed against her, and she shook her head.

"Would you do something for me?"

He straightened a little at this, pulling away just enough to meet her eyes. "Anything."

"Don't tell yourself that you're going to ruin this. Even if you don't believe it yet, tell yourself that you're exactly who I want to be with and that I'm not going anywhere. Tell yourself that you deserve to be happy and loved. And please promise that you'll try to believe it."

Erik found that he was unable to look away from her eyes as she spoke, drawn to the warmth and earnestness there even as the lump formed in his throat, even as that voice in the back of his head insisted just the opposite of what she was telling him. But he would try—he'd do anything that she asked of him without even thinking about it. And maybe he could do it if he was doing it for her. If seeing him feel happy and secure was what she wanted, if that would make her happy, then didn't he owe it to her to do everything he could?

"I will," he told her. "I'll try. Please be patient with me. It's… difficult to unlearn something that I've known for my whole life."

Christine's brow furrowed a little. "What do you mean?"

Erik sighed a little, shifting as he tried to find the right words. He'd told Christine a fair amount about his past—the most important things, at least—but there was still so much that he hadn't told her, not because he was hiding it but because he preferred not to think about it. And, of course, it was just yet another thing to burden her with.

"No one has ever wanted me before," he said. "Even Nadir. We may have developed a friendship, but at first he was stuck with me. I think he felt obligated to watch me, to make sure I didn't slip back into my old ways. And even as a child… I may not have understood it when I was very young, but I always knew that my mother didn't want me. I suppose that feeling becomes… engrained."

Christine tried to keep her expression even as he spoke, knowing that he felt bad for telling her things that upset her, but she couldn't completely suppress the rising lump in her throat. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I can't imagine what that must have been like."

Erik shrugged a little. "It wasn't always _bad_. But even when it wasn't bad, my mother was… distant. I was an inconvenience at best. Sometimes I was an inconvenience she could tolerate, but that was as good as it got. And even when things weren't bad, just knowing that you're not wanted isn't pleasant. That was why I left in the end."

"How old were you when you left?"

Erik looked away. "Thirteen."

She felt her breath catch; _so young_. "And you were on your own after that?"

"Mostly. There were a few people here and there, but no one permanent. There was one for a while…" Erik hesitated, bracing himself against the emotion brought on by the memory of those early years alone. "There was an older man who took me in for a while. I was about fourteen. He was kind, and I started to think… I started to hope that he might be permanent. But then he died very suddenly, and I was on my own again."

Christine nodded slowly, taking his hands in hers as if to assure both of them of her presence. He took her hands gratefully but didn't continue, and after another second she spoke. "How long did you live like that?" she asked softly.

"It was about ten years before I met Nadir."

Christine was quiet, though her grip on his hands tightened. For a few moments she tried to imagine it: ten years alone. Ten years without care and affection from anyone; ten years believing he didn't matter to a single living person. Those years must have been so desolately lonely. Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts, because Erik spoke again.

"It wasn't entirely lonely. There were a handful of people who showed me a little kindness, even if they were few and far between. But mostly I convinced myself that I didn't need anyone—that I didn't want to be part of a world that didn't want me."

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice coming out a little choked. "Erik, I'm so sorry that you had to live like that."

Erik met her eyes again, his chest constricting at the sadness that was so clear in her expression. "_I'm_ sorry," he told her gently. "I'm sorry that I upset you, Christine. I'm sorry that I make things difficult."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Christine insisted, shaking her head. "I want to know about your life. And _you_ don't upset me; it's the things that happened to you and the people who hurt you that upset me. Never you."

He nodded and brought her hands to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to her palms, and when his grasp loosened she reached out to cradle his face. "Christine, I—" he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. "I cannot put into words what you mean to me. Every moment that I spend with you makes all of the pain that I've gone through a little more distant. It was all worth it if it led to you. So it may take a while for me to feel… secure. But that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate the incredible gift that your love is."

Unable to find adequate words to reply, Christine could only nod and shift closer to him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling herself close. In a second his arms encircled her waist and his face was buried in the crook of her neck again; she was small and soft and warm in his arms, and just then he couldn't imagine anything better than holding her and being held like this.

They remained there on the couch for the rest of the morning, their limbs entangled, her head on his chest. They didn't talk much, but the slowing patter of the rain outside was enough to fill the silence. Instead, Christine worked to memorize this moment—the feeling of peace and security that his embrace brought, the intimacy of how gently he ran his fingers through her hair, the comfort of the steady thrumming of his heart. After a while the rain stopped and rays of warm sun began to break through the thick clouds, but they didn't move; this moment was quiet and peaceful and perfect, and neither of them wanted to disturb it. Eventually they would need to get up and continue on with their days. Christine would stay for a while longer and then Erik would take her home and return to an empty house that her presence had started to make feel a little less empty. Alone, the doubts and fears would return, a small part of his mind still insisting that she had to be a figment of his imagination. But all of those doubts would be just a little bit quieter than they were the day before—they grew just a little quieter every day that he spent with her—and he would hope that perhaps one day they would disappear completely, that Christine would remain in his life long enough for that to happen.

For now, though, there was this moment, and it was more than enough.


	30. Chapter 30

Christine stood frozen in her doorway, looking out into the apartment. She knew exactly who the culprit was—she'd told Erik that all she wanted was for him to attend the quiet dinner with Meg and Mrs. Giry that they had planned for tonight, but, knowing him, she had assumed that he would make some overly thoughtful gesture anyway. But this was… She couldn't quite believe it, even now as she surveyed the scene before her. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurd excess of it, but she loved it too much to do anything more than stare, delighted.

It was like stepping out into an enchanted world. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of flowers of all different kinds and colors filled the apartment like an overgrown garden. They spilled out of glass vases that sat on just about every flat surface, filling the room with their light, sweet fragrance. It was the kind of magical sight that, as a child, Christine's young mind would have conjured as she listened to fairytales.

Meg appeared in the kitchen and laughed at the look on Christine's face. "Yeah. When he said he wanted to surprise you with some flowers, I had no idea he meant 'buy the entire stock of every florist in the area and transfer it to our living room.'"

Christine grinned. "It's beautiful. We should keep our living room like this all the time."

"If your boyfriend is supplying us with the flowers, it's fine by me." Meg smiled, carefully picking her way through the living room to wrap Christine in a hug. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks. I'm excited for tonight." Christine took another look around the apartment. "We may need to redistribute the flowers a little before your mom gets here."

Meg laughed lightly. "This does look a little intense. Are you nervous at all? About Mom meeting Erik?"

"I guess a little," she shrugged. "I just hope they get along."

"I'm sure they will," Meg replied easily. "And this is actually a good occasion for them to meet, if you think about it. Everyone will be in a festive mood and thinking about how much they love you."

Christine's smile softened at this, at the thought of spending the evening with the people who loved her most. "You're right," she said decisively. "It'll go well."

Her mood only continued to brighten when she arrived at the music building a short time later, finding Erik waiting for her in their practice room as usual. He gave her a warm smile when she entered, and when she crossed the small room to wrap her arms around him, he returned the embrace without hesitation; she couldn't help but think back to a year ago, when they had hardly known each other and he had smiled at her so uncertainly. Even then, though, he had been so kind.

"Happy birthday, Christine," he told her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

In reply, she pulled away just enough to stretch up onto her toes and capture his lips. "Thank you," she said, punctuating her words with another kiss. "And thank you very much for the flowers. They're beautiful—all three million of them."

Erik looked down a little embarrassedly. "I thought you'd like a variety."

"I love them," she said with a soft smile. "Thank you."

"And you're still sure that you want me to come to dinner tonight?"

"Of course I'm sure," she replied. "But you don't have to come if you really don't want to."

"No, I want to," he said quickly, though his voice caught a little as he spoke. "I want to."

Christine didn't miss how he clenched and unclenched the hand that hung at his side, and she reached out to entwine their fingers, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You don't need to be nervous," she soothed. "Everything will go well, you'll see. Mrs. Giry will like you. Who knows—you might even have fun."

"If you're sure," Erik said, though he sounded less than convinced.

When Christine had first suggested that he come to her birthday dinner, the idea had been met with a mix of enthusiasm and anxiety. Of course he wanted to celebrate with her, Erik had assured her, and he was honored to be included, but did she really want Mrs. Giry to meet him? The self-loathing that had tinged this question had made her throat tighten. And as much as she had tried to convince him that things would be fine, that Mrs. Giry would like him—already did like him, even—nothing could quite shake his conviction that he would be met with the revulsion that life had taught him to expect. And then, perhaps, seeing her adoptive mother's opinion would change how Christine felt. Erik had kept this last anxiety private, though, ever fearful that the growing list of insecurities that was his life would eventually become more than Christine could handle.

"I'm sure," she told him again, and he gave her a small smile.

They fell into their usual lesson without further preamble, but the upcoming evening remained in Erik's thoughts as they worked. Perhaps the night wouldn't be as painful as he feared, he thought. But, ultimately, what parent would want their child to be with someone like _him_? There was nothing he could do to be good enough for her, and although he had been aware of the fact as long as he had known her, tonight it would be more on display than ever.

"Erik?" Christine's voice drew him from his thoughts, and he realized that she had been speaking to him. "I asked if 7 o'clock works for you," she repeated kindly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "Yes, I'll be there at 7."

"Okay, perfect," she smiled. "I guess I'll see you then."

"Christine." He caught her hand as she turned to leave, gently returning her smile when she looked up at him. "Is there anything else that you'd like for your birthday?"

"The flowers were more than enough, Erik," she replied. "And you'll be at dinner tonight. I don't need anything else."

"Are you sure? There's nothing at all that you want?"

Christine paused, thinking for a moment. At first she figured that she would consider for a moment so that Erik would be more likely to accept her refusal, but just as she started to speak, something occurred to her.

"Actually… there is one thing, I guess. And you can say no," she added quickly, "but I thought I might as well ask."

Erik's brow furrowed, hidden beneath the mask. "What is it?"

"I… it sounds a little silly," Christine said. "But… I don't have any pictures of you. And I'd really like one."

Her answer caught him off guard, and for a second he wasn't sure what to say. The thought of being in a photo—the only purpose of which was to be _looked at_—made his skin crawl a little. And it wasn't as though they rarely saw each other. She saw him almost every day. What could possibly make her want to look at him more than she already did? Granted, he reasoned, he had pictures of _her_, didn't he? It was nice to be able to see her smile even when they weren't together, some small reassurance that he hadn't completely imagined her. Still, he couldn't quite comprehend why _she_ would want this.

"Perhaps," he heard himself say weakly. "I… I don't—"

"It's okay. You don't have to," Christine said, her voice so gentle that it pained him. Such a simple request, and yet she was still so understanding when he hesitated. He wanted to give her whatever she wanted, but that desire wasn't quite enough to completely offset the fear; the realization made him all the more frustrated with himself.

Christine said nothing more about it, though, and before she left for class, she gave him a soft smile and a quick kiss and told him again how happy she was that he would be there tonight. She had felt guilty the moment she had seen him tense, just slightly, as though bracing himself for something. It had seemed like such a small thing; she had hoped that perhaps it wouldn't be a big deal. But of course it wasn't that easy, and she knew she should have expected as much. Of course he wouldn't be comfortable taking a photo. She had, admittedly, felt a slight pang of disappointment at his reaction, but she quickly pushed the feeling away. It honestly didn't really matter, she supposed.

She wasn't troubled about it for long, though. Her thoughts were quickly diverted to her classes and soon began to drift back to that night. Mrs. Giry was planning on arriving in the afternoon, shortly after she and Meg finished their last classes. Christine had said that they didn't need to go out and do anything special, that dinner that night was all that she wanted, but Mrs. Giry had insisted that she would take them downtown for some shopping (she needed to get Christine _something_ for her birthday, she'd argued). There was never room for argument once Mrs. Giry had made up her mind, and she and Meg were happy enough to relent to the proposed shopping trip. Then they would return to the apartment to start making dinner, and then Erik would arrive.

Christine knew that she had nothing to worry about—she had told Mrs. Giry a lot about Erik over the past year, and Mrs. Giry was eager to meet him. Mrs. Giry also knew how much Erik meant to her, and that alone went a long way when it came to earning her favor. Still, she couldn't quite suppress the flutter in her stomach as the time drew closer. It was strange—she didn't remember feeling like this when it had been Raoul who was meeting her adoptive mother. Maybe she was nervous _for_ Erik more than anything. He wasn't exactly outgoing and must be anxious, and Mrs. Giry was a fairly imposing person. She knew that she had been a little nervous the first time Meg had introduced them.

There was hardly time for any kind of real anxiety to form in her, though. In what felt like no time at all, the classes were over and Mrs. Giry was here, and Erik would be arriving soon.

"Girls, where do you keep your salad tongs?" Mrs. Giry asked, closing the kitchen drawer she had been digging through.

"Mom, why would we have salad tongs?" Meg asked. "I think this is the first time we've ever served a salad."

"You know, I tried to send you up here with the basics, but I assumed that you would supplement what I got for you."

"We did," Christine told her. "We bought that thing that cooks pasta in the microwave."

Meg laughed, and Mrs. Giry sighed and shook her head. There was a knock at the door, then, and Christine flashed them a smile as she moved to answer it.

"Hi," she greeted Erik, who gave her a small smile.

"Hi," he said quietly. "You look very nice."

She smoothed the skirt of her new lacey red dress—the birthday gift that Mrs. Giry had gotten her that afternoon. "Thank you."

Stepping aside to allow Erik to enter, she stretched onto her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips just before Mrs. Giry appeared around the corner.

"Erik," Christine said, "I'd like you to meet Meg's mother, Annette Giry. Mrs. Giry, this is Erik."

"It's nice to finally meet you," Mrs. Giry said, holding out her hand. There was only the slightest second of hesitation before Erik met the offered handshake. "I've heard a lot about you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Erik replied. "Christine speaks very highly of you." His words were a little stiff, and he glanced at Christine uncertainly. She gave him an encouraging smile.

"Hey Mom, how do I tell if this is done?" Meg asked, poking her head around the corner. "Hi, Erik," she added, and Erik nodded as Mrs. Giry turned away to assist.

Left alone for a moment, Christine took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Not so bad, right?" she whispered.

Erik smiled a little. "Not so bad."

Dinner when well, just as Christine was sure it would. Erik had been quiet at first, only giving brief answers to questions that were directed at him—he was a composer but did some architecture on the side, he had never had any other students and had received very little formal instruction himself, and, yes, he very much enjoyed teaching Christine—and occasionally casting glances at Christine as if to make sure he hadn't done anything horribly wrong yet. But then Christine got Mrs. Giry talking about her days in the ballet, and this drew Erik out a little more. The conversation had flowed more comfortably from there, and Christine was a little surprised when she noticed how late it had gotten.

"Well, I should be heading out soon," Mrs. Giry said finally, glancing at her watch.

"Mom, you're welcome to stay with us if you don't want to drive all the way home tonight," Meg said, despite having already made this offer several times that day.

Mrs. Giry waved the offer away, just as she had every time before. "Sleeping on that couch is too hard on my back, and I'm not kicking you out of your bed when you have class tomorrow. I'm best off just making the drive."

"Thank you for coming up here today," Christine said, standing as Mrs. Giry did and walking around the table to hug her. "I'm really happy you were able to make it."

"I'm glad too, dear. I hope you had a nice birthday." Turning to Erik, Mrs. Giry gave him a reserved smile—a sign of approval, Christine knew. "Erik, it was nice to meet you. I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

Erik smiled a little at this. "I hope so. It was nice to meet you as well."

He hung back as the goodbyes were said, taking the opportunity to observe Christine together with Meg and Mrs. Giry. The bond between the three of them was clear; Christine really was like a second daughter in their little family. He wondered, just for a moment, if perhaps there might be room for him as well. He was quick to suppress the thought, though. Even if tonight had gone reasonably well, he knew that that kind of acceptance was more than he could hope for. Tolerating someone for an evening and welcoming them into your life long-term were two very different things.

Still, he reasoned, not quite ready to completely relinquish that small spark of hope, tonight _had _gone reasonably well. There was at least that.

Once Mrs. Giry had left, Erik remained to help with what little cleanup still needed to be done. Meg was quick to excuse herself when they were finished, disappearing into her room, and then, much to his relief, it was just the two of them.

"Not to say 'I told you so,'" Christine said, smiling at him warmly and taking both of his hands in hers. "But I told you that tonight would go well."

Erik returned her smile, chuckling a little. "You did tell me. Do you really think it went well?"

She nodded. "Mrs. Giry can be a little stoic, but trust me, she liked you."

Despite this reassurance, he still found this hard to believe. Toleration was generally the best he could hope for, and even that seemed like a lofty goal when it came to someone who considered Christine her daughter. He still couldn't understand why Christine chose to be with him, much less imagine how her family could be pleased to see her in such a relationship. It wasn't difficult to imagine that Mrs. Giry's opinion of him would change as she learned more about him, or that perhaps she already disliked him and had only been pleasant tonight for Christine's sake. He let these thoughts remain unspoken, though. Christine was looking up at him with that tender, happy expression, and the last thing he wanted to do was mire that happiness with his ever-present doubts. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and let her lead him into her room. When the door was closed behind them, she reached up to remove his mask and, bringing her face close to his, kissed him.

"Thank you for being here," she murmured, punctuating her words with another kiss. "I know you were anxious about it. It means a lot to me."

"It means a lot to me that you would _want_ me to be here," Erik told her softly.

"Do you want to stay a while longer? I know it's getting late and we have a lesson in the morning, but—"

"Of course," he said quickly, making her smile.

They ended up reclined on her bed, talking quietly about nothing in particular. His arm was around her and she was nestled into his side, her head on his shoulder. They were surrounded by the flowers he'd given her, most of them having been moved into her room. The night felt so peaceful and quiet and comfortable; it was just the kind of ending to the night that Christine had hoped for.

"So when you were traveling, did you have a favorite place?" she asked, absent-mindedly running her thumb over the fabric of his shirt. She could feel his heart beating steadily under her palm.

Erik thought for a moment. "Paris."

"How long were you in Paris?"

"A few months, I believe." It had been soon after he'd left the country, before things had gotten too bad. He'd been a pickpocket, living on the street. He'd done what he could to go unnoticed. At night, though, he'd wander a little more freely, sneaking into locked gardens and watching the city lights glisten on the Seine. It had been a relatively peaceful time in his life, surrounded by beauty and art. Like everything, though, it had gone wrong eventually and he'd had to move on.

Christine grew quiet, a dreamy look on her face. It was too much to suggest that _they_ could go someday, she knew—travel and all the crowds and scrutiny that came with it could hardly seem like a pleasant idea to Erik, and of course the time that he had spent traveling had been incredibly far from the fun kind of adventure that she pictured at the thought of travel—but she could at least imagine. It was so easy to imagine a future with Erik, she realized. Maybe it shouldn't be this easy—they had only been together for a few months—but it was almost as though any other possibility hadn't occurred to her. Whether she was thinking of far-off dreamings or of quiet nights together like this, in her mind he was always there with her. She couldn't imagine it any other way.

"Christine," Erik said quietly, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"Do you still want a photo?"

Christine shifted to look at him. His voice had carried just the slightest trace of reluctance, but he met her eyes earnestly. "Really?"

He nodded once. "Perhaps one of both of us would be… acceptable."

She tilted her head up to kiss his cheek, giving him a soft smile, before turning and reaching for her phone. Switching the camera so that they appeared on the screen, she found Erik avoiding looking at the image of them. She turned her head toward him and he met her eyes, his expression softening and a small smile forming on his lips. Without turning her gaze back to the screen, she snapped the picture.

It wasn't until a while later that she actually examined the photo. She'd set her phone aside without really looking at it, instead pressing gentle kisses to Erik's lips. He'd held her close, murmuring that he loved her. After a while she had started to doze off in his arms, and he'd insisted that he should return home and let her sleep. When he was gone, she'd remembered the picture and picked up her phone curiously. The photo was slightly askew, with part of her head cut out of the frame. Her hair was messy and her makeup was a little smeared. But it was perfect. She was looking up at him with all the tenderness and affection that filled her written plainly on her face. His expression held just as much love, his gold eyes intense and warm. It was the same expression that always made her breath catch, that made her heart feel full to bursting. As wary as Erik was of photos of himself, she should show him this one—perhaps this was one that he wouldn't mind.


	31. Chapter 31

**PSA: I won't be posting a new chapter next week because I'll be traveling, but I hope this chapter will make up for that. Thanks so much for reading, and I'll see you all again in two weeks!**

* * *

Even with how much had changed in the time that they'd known each other, it was slightly difficult for Christine to believe that the man who had shied away from shaking her hand less than a year and a half ago was the same man who was kissing her now.

There was normally a sense of reserve when he kissed her, just a little bit of caution, but tonight that had been lost. They were on Erik's couch, some TV show that had long since been forgotten playing quietly in the background. Christine had ended up reclined on the couch, though she wasn't sure if he had eased her back or if she had pulled him down. Her head was swimming as she kissed him breathlessly; it was intoxicating and electric, and all she could think was that she wanted more of him.

His touch was gentle as he trailed his hand up her side. When he hesitated, she took his hand and moved it to her breast, and his breath caught at the contact. She undid the top buttons of his shirt, slipping her hand beneath the fabric and feeling a shiver run through him. His lips strayed to her neck and she sighed his name and then, unthinkingly, he pressed his hips into hers. She gasped at the feeling of his arousal, but before she could react, he was gone.

It took a second for Christine's head to clear enough to make sense of the empty space above her. She sat up and pushed back the hair that fell into her face, disoriented at the sudden change. Blinking to clear her vision, she saw that Erik had moved to the other end of the couch, half turned away from her. His face was flushed and his breathing was quick, matching her own.

"Erik?" she said gently. "Erik, what is it? Did I… did I do something wrong?"

"No. No, you did nothing wrong," he said, not quite meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… that was… inappropriate."

"Oh." She could feel herself blushing. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Erik. I'm sorry if I pushed you. I don't want you to feel like we're moving too fast or anything."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," she told him quickly.

He nodded, but his expression showed that he didn't quite believe her.

"Really, Erik, I wasn't uncomfortable. I actually, um…" He glanced up at her and she knew her blush deepened. "But I—I don't want to push you into anything that you're not ready for."

"Oh." Christine couldn't quite read his face, and when he said nothing more, she spoke again.

"Are you?" she asked a little timidly.

He looked at her dazedly, like he hadn't quite heard her. "Am I what?"

She suddenly lost her courage and looked away. "Nothing."

They were both silent for a minute, not quite meeting each other's eyes. Christine's heart had returned to its normal pace and, sitting here in this quiet moment so starkly different than just a few moments before, she felt a little self-conscious. She wanted to know what Erik was thinking, but she could guess that if _she_ felt self-conscious, he must be feeling even more so. Eventually he did speak, but not the words she was hoping to hear.

"It's late. I should take you home."

He stood without another word and she followed him to the car, wondering how that could just be the end of the conversation for him. Then again, it hadn't been much of a conversation to begin with. She'd given up on her question without receiving an answer, without him even understanding what she'd asked. As they began the drive down the dark road leading away from Erik's house, Christine mulled over her words, determined not to let the subject drop completely but not wanting to be overly blunt about it if it did make Erik uncomfortable. But she still hadn't said anything by the time they were nearly back to her apartment, and she'd started to grow frustrated with how she struggled for words. Taking a breath, she finally forced herself to speak, though the question was decidedly less delicate than she had hoped.

"Do you want to have sex?"

There was a pause, and his mouth opened and closed again without reply. Regretting her frankness, Christine searched for her next words. Before she could say anything, though, Erik spoke up, matching her candor.

"Yes."

A smile formed on her lips. "Really?"

Erik nodded, glancing at her timidly. "Do… do you?"

She answered without hesitation. "Yes."

Another second passed in stunned silence, as though this wasn't the answer he'd been expecting.

"Are you sure?" he asked with such incredulity that she couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Yes. Absolutely sure."

Erik nodded again, processing. When he didn't say anything else, Christine continued.

"So… maybe I could come over tomorrow night?" she said, hoping that the suggestion wasn't too bold.

"Yes. Tomorrow. Yes," Erik replied quickly, stammering a little, and Christine's smile widened.

"Okay."

They had arrived at Christine's apartment, but neither of them immediately moved to get out of the car. Instead Christine reached over to cover one of Erik's hands with hers, giving it a squeeze, and he gave her a shy smile in return. After a moment they climbed out of the car and walked in comfortable silence to her door, their arms around each other.

"I'll see you in the morning, then," he said, wanting to linger with her there but also feeling a rush of shyness. Tomorrow night seemed both terrifyingly close and excruciatingly far away.

"See you in the morning," she repeated.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips which she returned eagerly; both of them were hesitant to pull away.

"Okay," Erik said quietly, though he made no move to turn away from her and she made no move to go inside.

Christine smiled. "Okay."

"Goodnight." He took a single step back, gradually loosening his arms around her.

"Goodnight," she laughed, also taking a small step back toward the door.

Even after he'd turned to walk back to his car, he paused to glance back at her a couple of times, always with that shy smile. She grinned back at him, standing in the doorway and watching him go until he was out of sight.

Erik was waiting for her in their practice room as usual the next morning, and Christine felt her breath catch when she entered the room and he met her gaze. His eyes were warm and his smile was a little timid, and she was sure that he could see the same mixture of excitement and shyness in her expression. The lesson wasn't as productive as their lessons usually were—it was obvious that neither of them were quite focused. At one point she touched his arm and his fingers faltered on the piano keys; once he turned and met her eyes as she sang and she'd completely forgotten the next notes. As silly and overeager as it made her feel, it was at least a comfort to know that Erik was just as distracted. He kissed her before she left for class, though the kiss was painfully brief. She lingered for another moment with her arms around him.

"So… tonight," she began, and Erik looked away.

"You've changed you mind."

"No," she said quickly. "No, not at all. I was just going to ask what time you wanted me to come over."

"Oh." He gave her a small, relieved smile. "Well, your shift is over at eight, right?"

"Actually, I traded shifts after we made plans," she said, blushing a little. "I don't work tonight."

Erik's smiled widened. "That's great. What about six? I'll make you dinner."

"That sounds good." She grinned, but his smile faltered a little.

"You know you _can_ change your mind, right?" he asked gently.

She nodded. "I know. You can change your mind, too."

"I know."

Taking his hands in hers, Christine gave them a reassuring squeeze. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"See you tonight," Erik echoed, feeling a little dizzy at the prospect. She leaned up to kiss him again, and then she was heading off to class and he was left standing in the practice room, pondering the hours ahead of him.

He was nervous—of course he was—but there was more than that. It seemed impossible that she would really want to be with him like this, despite what she said, and he knew that he should do his best not to get his hopes up. And, of course, there was the guilt for even wanting this, for allowing this to go forward. Surely, he was taking advantage of her, of her kindness and of her feelings for him. She shouldn't be with him at all, much less _intimately_. He knew that perfectly well and was letting her go ahead with this anyway; he would let her debase herself for the sake of his own ugly urges.

But had anything over the past few months suggested that she didn't fully want to be with him, that she was with him more out of compassion or pity than her own desire? She had never seemed the least bit hesitant to touch him or even to be around him. And last night she'd kissed him so passionately, been so responsive to his touch. She'd been the one to broach the subject, too. The possibility of her actually wanting this somehow seemed even worse, though—she shouldn't want to be with him when she deserved so much better. But didn't he also owe it to her to give her anything she wanted, even if he was unsure?

Not that he was unsure about this, not really. Despite the ever-present anxiety and confliction, he _wanted_ this, wanted her, and he'd been unable to think of anything else since she'd told him that she wanted him too. He had barely been able to get through the lesson, the desire to pull her to him and kiss her like they'd kissed last night planted in the forefront of his mind. Part of him had even wanted to beg her to skip her classes, to come home with him this very moment because the idea of waiting the entire day seemed too torturous. He didn't know what had come over him. Ever since he'd gotten out of Iran, he'd done everything he could to be in control—of himself, of his surroundings and interactions, of everything—and here he was, desperate to have something that he knew he shouldn't.

After the lesson that morning, Erik did his best to keep himself busy, hoping to keep his mind off the coming evening and to stop the abundance of nervous energy from driving him insane. When music couldn't hold his attention, he attempted some architecture work; when that didn't help, he resorted to cleaning the house. He put everything back in its proper place, he dusted, he put fresh sheets on the bed (though this last action derailed any progress he'd made in taking his mind off that night). Then he showered and took extra care with his clothes and hair, figuring that while there was only so much he could do about his looks, he might as well do what he could. And then it was time to pick up Christine and he didn't feel an ounce calmer than he had that morning.

It was all he could do to stop his hands from trembling as he knocked on her apartment door, and when she answered, just for a moment, all thoughts but one left his mind.

"You look beautiful," he told her.

She beamed, smoothing the skirt of the red dress she'd worn on her birthday a couple of weeks earlier. "Thank you. You look very handsome."

Caught between incredulity and pleasure at the genuine compliment, he only smiled a little and ducked his head. "Thank you. Are you ready to go?"

"I am." Pausing to press a kiss to his lips, she entwined their fingers and headed out to his car with him trailing close behind her. At least she seemed fully comfortable, he told himself. Maybe he didn't need to feel so guilty.

Dinner passed quietly, though the air around them felt thick and electric. Occasionally Erik would meet Christine's eyes and she would blush and glance away, as if caught doing something. But then she'd look back at him with a small smile and something in her dark eyes that made his heart beat faster, and it would be his turn to glance away, fearing that his face betrayed his thoughts. It wasn't uncomfortable, but rather expectant, and he wasn't sure if that put him more or less at ease.

When dinner was finished, Christine suggested that they go to the living room, and Erik was happy enough to follow her lead. He sat beside her on the couch and, after a second of uncertainty, leaned down to press his lips to hers. She kissed him gently, pulling back slightly after a moment.

"Is this okay?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Is it okay with you?"

"Yes." She kissed him again, a little more firmly this time, and for the first time that day he was able to let every thought fade until there was only her lips against his. With one hand on her waist he urged her closer; the other hand threaded through her soft curls, drawing a quiet sigh from her lips. For a while they remained there in a gentle, familiar embrace. As anxious as he had been that day—as anxious as he still was—Erik had forgotten the feeling of absolute safety that being in her arms brought. There was so much love in her caress, so much tenderness. He let her fill his senses, and when she moved a hand to stroke his thigh, electricity shot through him, emboldening him for a moment.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" he asked softly. His voice still carried a trace of nerves, and she was quick to give him a reassuring smile.

"I'd love to."

He returned her smile a little shyly and, taking her hand, led her up the stairs to his room. They paused just past the doorway, bathed in the warm, dim glow of a bedside lamp. Erik turned to face her, his gold eyes glinting in the light.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" His voice was painfully timid, as though he fully expected to be met with harsh refusal.

Christine took a step forward. "I am. Are you?"

He nodded. "I am."

With a gentle smile, she reached for his free hand, entwining their fingers. "I love you, Erik," she told him. "I love you so, so much."

He lowered his face to rest his forehead against hers. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice thick.

Tilting her head up just slightly, Christine captured his lips in a tender kiss. Erik returned the kiss gently, every movement careful and adoring even as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She smiled a little at his soft sigh when she cupped his face in her hands. After a moment she began to undo the buttons of his shirt, working slowly and giving him plenty of opportunity to halt her progress. When there was no hesitation from him, she eased the shirt off his shoulders, trailing kisses down his throat. A soft moan escaped his lips and his hands moved across her back to the zipper of her dress. They trembled a little as he eased the zipper down, but Christine pulled back just enough to give him a reassuring smile. She slid the dress off, and when she met Erik's eyes again, the look of desire he gave her sent a thrill through her. Taking a step forward, he put her hands on her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her with a little more sureness than before.

Christine moved to undo his belt, again carefully measuring his reaction; his pants followed, and then he was guiding her back to the bed. She lied back, urging him down with her, sighing has he gently ran his hands over the bare skin of her ribs, her stomach. Her lips moved to the spot just below his jaw where she could feel his pulse, and the groan that her caress pulled from him made her shiver. He fumbled a little with the clasp of her bra, but soon the garment was removed and tossed aside. Then his hands were on her and he was kissing her feverishly, but only for a moment; he pulled away abruptly, his mind suddenly catching up and sending a wave of self-consciousness through him. Christine sat up, her brow furrowed.

"Erik? What's wrong?"

Her voice was so gentle—was there any limit to her patience with him? Guilt filled him at the thought and it felt like his mind wouldn't fully clear and even now he couldn't stop looking at her and, _god_, he had no right to want her as much as he did.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry, nothing's wrong. This is just… a lot."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No," he said, perhaps a little too emphatically, but she smiled at this.

"Okay."

Kneeling in front of him, Christine took his face in her hands, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead, his temples, his lips. In a moment his arms were around her again and he was kissing her back, carefully and tenderly. Eventually he pulled away again, but only just enough to meet her eyes.

"Do you really want this?" he asked softly, stroking her cheek.

She nodded. "I do."

He let out a huff that was half sigh and half disbelieving laugh. "Why, Christine? How could you possibly want to be with me like this?"

"Because I love you," she told him. "I love it when you kiss me and hold me and touch me. I _want you_, Erik." Taking his hand from her cheek, she moved it slowly down her body. Erik held his breath, his heart hammering wildly, as she paused at the top of her underwear. She met his eyes for a moment before slipping his fingers under the elastic. A soft moan escaped her lips as he reached the warm wetness between her legs. "I want you," she repeated breathlessly.

Erik swallowed thickly, not quite believing that this was really happening. He stroked her experimentally, eliciting another soft moan, and the sound of it was the most utterly intoxicating thing he could imagine. As completely unbelievable as it was, she did want him. Her hand had moved from his and she was gripping his shoulders, her lips at the sensitive spot just below his jaw again, but he didn't remove his hand; he continued to touch her, delicately at first but growing more confident as she responded to him. It felt like he was on fire, every nerve in his body alive and aware of her touch, burning more with each moan and sigh. She was holding onto him more tightly, now, her breathing growing more ragged, her face buried in the crook of his neck as she murmured that she loved him. And then there was a sharp intake of breath and she tensed, and for a moment he feared that he had done something wrong. But he could feel her smile and it hit him as she relaxed against him, catching her breath for a moment before straightening and kissing him soundly. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed when she pulled back to meet his eyes.

"Was that… okay?" Erik asked cautiously, unsure of what else to say.

Christine let out a breathless laugh. "Yeah."

He smiled a little in relief, and when she kissed him again, he was to one to deepen the embrace, unable to suppress the desire that had only grown more intense. Before he could work up the nerve to voice this desire, Christine spoke again.

"Do you want to keep going?" she murmured against his lips.

Erik nodded and she recaptured his lips, pulling him closer.

* * *

For a while he just held her, unsure of what to say. It seemed so unreal that he was holding Christine in his arms, her bare skin soft and warm against his, her fingers idly running across his chest. As many conflicting thoughts were trying to form in his head, this was the only one that he was fully aware of. How could this possibly be real? What had he done to deserve this moment?

She turned her head to press a kiss to his chest. "How are you?"

He couldn't help but smile—he knew that she was only concerned for him, and his silence now didn't exactly give her a window into his thoughts, but the idea that he could be anything but completely content at this moment felt a little absurd.

"I'm great," he told her softly, feeling her smile against his chest. "How are you?"

"Also great," she replied, laughing a little. "I was just a little worried. You're very quiet."

Erik smoothed her curls and kissed the top of her head. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around how much I love you, and how unbelievably fortunate I am that you love me too."

"I know the feeling," she said. "I'm just as fortunate."

He tightened his arms around her. "Thank you," he said, his voice low. "For everything, not just tonight. You're endlessly patient and understanding, and I know that dealing with me can't be easy."

Before he could continue, Christine put a finger to his lips, shaking her head a little. "Don't do that. At least for tonight, no self-deprecation, okay? You're not hard to deal with and you don't need to thank me. I'm here because I want to be, because you make me want to be."

Erik only nodded as she held his gaze, her expression full of tenderness. She shifted a little to press her lips to his, and he returned the kiss lovingly, feeling very much like he was worshipping the source of his salvation. That was exactly what she was, whether she would admit it or not. She had brought him to life, had given his life meaning, had made him feel such divine things. And now here they were, and he would be all too willing to stay here in her arms forever.


	32. Chapter 32

The remaining weeks of the semester passed quickly, a blur of classes and work and preparation for spring musical auditions. They'd be doing _Show Boat_ this year, Erik had told her, and Christine had quickly become enchanted by the music. And while she still didn't want to jinx things by predicting with the same conviction as Erik that she'd be playing Magnolia, she did feel much more confident about the whole thing than she had the year before. All of the nerves and uncertainty of the previous year had been replaced by excitement, and the discovery of this made her even happier.

Beyond the excitement of preparing for auditions, she found that she enjoyed working on something so intently again. All the time that she and Erik had spent working on _Candide_ could easily have become monotonous, but instead she had been struck by the feeling that they could dive endlessly deeper given enough time; even by the time they were nearing the first performance of the show, Erik was still pointing to details in the score that she had never noticed and making suggestions that completely changed how she looked at a section that she could sing backwards in her sleep. As much as she enjoyed working on a variety of music, there was something especially satisfying about really delving into a score, and she was glad to be able to do it again.

In what felt like no time at all, classes were finished and Christine was packing for winter break. It had been decided that she would stay with Erik for the first day, and then they would both head to the Giry house for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day—a plan that Erik had agreed to with a touch of caution, the idea of spending all that time as a guest in someone's home sending a jolt of unease through him. Nadir had been invited too, and although Erik supposed he should be grateful to have one more person there who was more than just an acquaintance, the idea of having _one more person _therefelt a little bit overwhelming. But Christine had reassured him in that gentle, patient way of hers, and anyway, he knew how much it would mean to her to have him at her family celebration, so he had agreed. Before that, though, it was just the two of them.

Even after Christine knew that she was awake, rousing herself was more of a struggle than it should have been. Her eyes were too heavy to open right away and she had no concept of how long she might have been asleep. Her limbs were stiff and she reached her arms over her head, stretching languidly down to her toes. It was only after another moment that she was able to open her eyes. Blinking to clear her vision, her mind finally began to rouse. Erik was gone and she was sprawled across most of the bed; this was no surprise as he usually woke earlier than she did, but the heaviness of her body would suggest that she had been in this position for quite a while. She briefly let her eyes droop shut again, but now that she was awake, she felt plenty rested and knew that she would not drift off again. Instead she lay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the complete lack of things to do. There were no classes or rehearsals, no work, nothing to study for. There was only rest and comfort and the quiet sound of the piano drifting up from downstairs.

Eventually she exchanged the warm bed for a hot, leisurely shower and then dressed in a too-big sweater and a pair of leggings, determined that the first day of her vacation would be as comfortable and relaxed as possible. She found Erik in the music room as usual when she made her way downstairs, but she was met with a mildly amused look from him.

"Good evening," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Okay, so I slept in a little." Erik wordlessly held out his watch for her to see, and her eyes widened. "…Or a lot. Sorry. I hope you didn't have a bunch of stuff planned for today."

Erik shook his head, a warm smile on his lips as he gently tugged at her sweater to pull her closer. "I'm glad you slept in. You needed it."

"I didn't mean to sleep until noon," she insisted, punctuating her words with a quick kiss. "You could have woken me up."

"I'm not so sure about that. You were completely comatose." Cupping her cheek, Erik drew her face down to his to kiss her more fully. "I'm glad you slept well."

"Sorry if I ruined your plans for this morning."

"I really don't have plans," he told her. "I figured that you could use a day at your leisure. So what do you want to do?"

Christine thought for a moment. "Well, I'd like to sing, of course. And I need to wrap gifts for tomorrow. And I thought I'd bake some Christmas cookies, if you'd like to help with that."

Erik felt another stirring of amusement at this—he'd never been one to participate in these kinds of festivities, even on the rare occasion that he'd had the opportunity to, but he had to admit that Christine's excitement as a little infectious. Or, at least, witnessing it was so pleasant that anything she suggested would seem agreeable. "Of course."

"But first I'd like some breakfast, if you don't mind delaying the day a little bit longer."

"I believe it's dinner now," Erik smirked, "but of course I don't mind."

"Ha ha," Christine smiled good-naturedly and she turned and headed toward the kitchen. "Not everyone can be an early riser like you. I'll have you know that I've had an exhausting couple of weeks."

"I know you have," Erik replied gently as he stood and followed her. "You deserve your vacation." He stood and watched for a moment as Christine busied herself with her breakfast, feeling a small twinge of pleasure at how familiar she was with his home. The past couple of weeks had certainly been busy for her, but she'd still managed to spend plenty of time here with him; even if much of that time had been spent studying quietly at the kitchen table, just having her around was good enough for him. The house had never felt so comfortable as it did with her warm, soothing presence. And although he did his best not to think about what the future held for them, he did occasionally allow himself to indulge in the fantasy that the house would always be filled with that warmth.

"So we leave for the Girys' tomorrow," Christine said, pulling his attention back to the present. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Erik replied, hoping to conceal at least some of his anxiety, but Christine didn't seem fully convinced.

"You know that you don't have to come," she told him gently. "I mean, I want you there, of course. But I don't want you to be uncomfortable. You could always just drive me down tomorrow and come back in the evening rather than spending the night."

For half a second he wanted to consider the offer, but he quickly shook his head; Christine wanted him there, so he would be there. "No, it'll be fine," he insisted. "I'm just a little nervous."

"I understand," Christine said. "But you've gotten along well with Mrs. Giry and Meg before, and you know that they like you. I think you'll have a good time. On Christmas Eve we always cook and bake a whole bunch, and in the evening we sit around and visit and watch movies. Sometimes we drive around the neighborhoods nearby and look at all the Christmas lights. You'll be sleeping on the couch that night, by the way," she added apologetically. "I tried to fight for you, but Mrs. Giry was pretty firm about it. This is the first time Meg or I have brought someone home overnight and I think she just wants to draw a line."

Erik smiled a little. "That's perfectly fine. Although I am quite fond of sleeping next to you, I'm not sure I want to find out what happens to people who cross Mrs. Giry."

Christine laughed at this. "At least we have tonight. And I'll be back over New Year's. I can stay over every night then if you want me to."

"Of course," he replied, perhaps a little too emphatically, but she only smiled.

"Well then, you'll have something to look forward to."

Erik's smile softened, and he took a few steps across the kitchen to wrap his arms around her. There were often moments like this where it felt like everything hit him anew and he just had to be close to her, to confirm that she was there and that all of this was real. Of course he had something to look forward to—he looked forward to every moment he had with her.

"Tell me about Christmas Day," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Well," she said, leaning into him, "We'll have a leisurely morning and a big breakfast, and then we'll exchange gifts. Then Nadir will come over and we'll all visit, and there will be more cooking, and we'll all have a big family dinner together."

"You do make it all sound rather pleasant," Erik said, and she could feel him smile.

"It _will_ be pleasant," Christine assured him. "Now, I think I've held up our day long enough. Should we go sing?"

"In a minute," he told her. When she gave him a questioning look, he took her face in his hands and lowered his lips to hers, the embrace tender but sound. She happily returned the kiss, letting out a little sigh of contentment. Erik pulled back to meet her eyes after a moment, but he still held her face gently. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said, and he pressed one more kiss to her lips.

The day was just as peaceful as Christine had hoped it would be. She and Erik remained ensconced in the music room well into the afternoon, leisurely working their way through whatever songs they were in the mood for. When she returned to the kitchen to do her baking, he followed, lingering to one side and watching her work for a while before being drawn in to help.

If he was being honest, this was the kind of thing that normally might have annoyed him. Christmas, with all its forced merriment and glorification of togetherness and sentimentality, had never held much appeal for him; _he_ had certainly never been shown any of the compassion that the season claimed to bring out in people. It had never felt different than any other time of the year aside from the amount of sappy movies playing on TV. But, as with all other parts of his life, he couldn't quite remember why he'd always felt that way now that Christine was beside him, happily frosting cookies and humming Christmas carols while she worked. All of this didn't seem so bad when she was involved. It felt warm and cozy and comfortable, and he thought that perhaps the sentimentality wasn't so bad when it made Christine smile and laugh so warmly. She licked her fingers when she was finished with her work, and Erik leaned over and kissed her, tasting the sugar on her lips.

They left for the Girys' early the next morning, hoping to beat the snow that the low-hanging gray clouds promised. Mrs. Giry greeted them warmly at the door, and as they stepped inside Christine gratefully took in the familiar, cheery sight of the Giry house at Christmas. It wasn't that is was all that different than normal—the Christmas tree was lit up in the corner of the living room, and a few other decorations were scattered here and there—but there was something about the house at this time of year that she had always found particularly comforting. She glanced at Erik, and though his posture was stiff, his smile was unforced. She did her best to stay close to him through the morning. Much of it was just spent visiting over coffee, and just like the last time they had all been together, Erik gradually grew more comfortable. Christine felt herself relax just seeing him relax; she hated putting him in a situation that made him nervous, even when she was confident that things wouldn't go they way he feared they would. She had known that asking him to stay overnight was a lot for him. Seeing him begin to lower his guard made her feel a little less bad about bringing him here.

After a while, a timer in the kitchen dinged, and Mrs. Giry excused herself to check on it. Meg quickly followed, offering to help and giving Christine a reassuring smile that said she understood that a few minutes alone would be appreciated. Erik did seem a little relieved when it was just the two of them, and Christine reached over to squeeze his hand.

"How are you doing?" she asked him gently.

"Not bad," he told her. "Do you think I'm… doing okay?"

"What, like, are you getting them to like you? Of course. They already like you, Erik, I promise. You don't need to worry about making a good impression or anything." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Trust me, everyone in this house is glad that you're here."

He smiled a little. "I think you might be a bit biased."

"Oh, I definitely am," she said seriously. "But it's still true."

"You don't regret bringing me along?"

"Not at all. Do you regret coming?"

He gave her a small smile. "Not at all."

Despite this reassurance, Christine couldn't help but be watchful through the day, glancing at him frequently and searching for any signs of discomfort. And while he never looked fully relaxed—not like he was when it was just the two of them—he at least didn't seem painfully uncomfortable. When they settled in to watch a movie that night, he sat near her but not quite near enough to touch. She noticed him glancing at her, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out to her, and she considered closing the distance between them herself. But she held back, figuring that if he wasn't comfortable taking her hand in front of Mrs. Giry and Meg, she didn't want to push him. She did manage to catch his eye and give him a small smile, though, and for that moment his whole demeanor softened, as if it _was _just the two of them, and he returned her smile.

Soon it was time for everyone to retire, and Christine did so hesitantly, only after repeated assurances from Erik that he would be perfectly comfortable. Unsure whether he'd want her to kiss him while Mrs. Giry and Meg still lingered nearby, Christine settled for giving his hand a squeeze before following her family upstairs. As vigilant as she felt about Erik's comfort, it felt good to have him here. Knowing that he was just downstairs gave her a feeling of ease. The people who mattered most to her were all with her, and she'd get to spend a cozy, relaxing day with them tomorrow. It wasn't that her family had felt incomplete with only the Girys or that she no longer felt the loss of her father. But with Erik here, things felt sort of… settled. Like this was how things were meant to be and how things would be for a long time. The thought made her smile as she climbed into bed and turned off the light.

* * *

It took Erik a while to fall asleep. At first he was very aware of the unfamiliar house around him, his mind becoming fully alert at every little noise. Even once that started to ease, he would rouse himself every few minutes with the sudden concern that he'd fallen asleep and his mask had become askew. And of course the mask wasn't exactly comfortable to sleep in—just one more thing to prevent him from drifting off. Erik was finally right on the cusp of sleep when suddenly there was a familiar voice very close to him.

"Erik, wake up," Christine whispered.

He opened his eyes to find her kneeling beside him, grinning expectantly. When she saw that he was awake she pressed a quick kiss to his lips before practically leaping to her feet, hurrying over to turn on the lights on the Christmas tree. Erik blinked groggily in the burst of colored light, watching as Christine sat down on the floor in front of the tree and motioned for him to join her. He considered pointing out the impracticality of sitting on the floor when he was already on a perfectly comfortable couch, but he looked again at her smile and joined her without protest.

"What exactly are we doing?" he whispered as he lowered himself onto the floor beside her.

"It's midnight," she said. "Merry Christmas."

He smiled softly, taking her hand in his. "Merry Christmas."

She shifted closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder, her eyes returning to the lights before them, dazzling in the dark house. "When I got too old for Santa, my dad decided that we needed a new tradition. So every Christmas he would get me up at midnight, and we'd just sit quietly and look at the lights on the tree. I've always thought they look magical when everything else is dark and quiet. Dad said that the first few minutes of Christmas are the most magical ones and so he wanted us to enjoy them together. It's been a little lonely the past few years, but it still makes me feel close to him, you know?"

"You've been doing this by yourself?" He felt Christine nod in response.

"It felt wrong to let anyone else in on our tradition."

"But I'm here."

"You're here," she repeated, the affection in her voice clear. "This is something that's special to me and I wanted to share it with you. And I think that if my dad was here, he would've woken you up too."

Erik smiled and, feeling a lump form in his throat, turned his face to press a kiss to the top of her head and let them settle into a comfortable silence. It _was _very peaceful, he thought; perhaps there was something magical about these first quiet, undisturbed minutes. Or maybe it was just being here with Christine, her warm body snuggled into his side, having invited him to join her in this private moment. He wondered if she knew how full his heart felt just now, how warm and safe and loved she made him feel.

Eventually the weight of her head on his shoulder grew a little heavier, and he looked down to find her on the brink of dozing off. Without a word he stood and scooped her up into his arms, his heart straining as she sleepily wrapped her arms around him and settled against his chest. Carrying her back to her room, he laid her gently in her bed. The thought of staying with her, holding her close as they both drifted into sleep, was tempting. But going against Mrs. Giry's rule would hardly ingratiate him to her, so he settled for pressing a gentle kiss to Christine's forehead.

"I love you," he told her, and she smiled a little, not opening her eyes.

"Love you," she murmured.

Allowing himself to linger only for a brief moment to take in the image of her, to memorize the look of contentment on her face as she gently drifted off, Erik turned and silently made his way back through the dark house, the faint glow from the lights on the tree casting strange shadows through the rooms. He flicked off the lights and stood for a moment in the darkness while his eyes adjusted enough to find his way back to the couch without running into anything. As he settled back in and closed his eyes, listening to the quiet sound of the wind outside, something in him felt more settled than before. It wasn't long before he fell into a peaceful sleep, the memory of Christine's warm form and gentle smile fresh and vivid in his mind.


	33. Chapter 33

Christmas morning was bright and cold, a fresh layer of snow covering the ground as the sun broke through the clouds. Christine woke early, her first thought to check on Erik and make sure he had been comfortable. There was a slight twinge of guilt as she thought again of his nervousness at spending the night in a home that wasn't his—she could hardly blame him for feeling anxious in a strange environment. But she had reassured him the best that she could, and he hadn't seemed particularly on edge the night before. Still, she was quick to throw on her robe and make her way quietly downstairs. She was unsurprised to find Erik already up and dressed, neatly folding the blankets he'd used the night before. He turned a little uneasily when he heard her approaching but quickly relaxed when he realized it was only her.

"Morning," she said, greeting him with a quick kiss.

"Good morning," he replied. "Aren't you tired? It's early."

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I figured you'd be up and thought I'd come sit with you."

He smiled. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"Did you sleep okay last night?" she asked, sitting down on the couch and taking his hand when he sat down beside her. "I was worried that you'd be too on-edge."

"I was actually pretty comfortable last night," he told her. "I think sitting with you relaxed me."

Christine beamed. "I'm glad to hear that. Merry Christmas, by the way."

His smile softened. "Merry Christmas."

It wasn't long before Mrs. Giry woke and came downstairs to start preparing breakfast, and Meg followed shortly after. Soon the house was filled with the delicious smells of Christmas morning and the sound of quiet, happy conversation. Christine noticed that Erik _did _seem a little more at ease this morning, a little less stiff and formal. He still stayed close to her side, glancing at her from time to time as if to make sure he hadn't done something wrong yet, but at least his demeanor was growing less wary.

It felt natural to have him here, she thought as they all sat around the table for breakfast. He may not be entirely comfortable here just yet—it would understandably take time for him to get used to being in the Giry home and for him to build that easy familiarity with Mrs. Giry and Meg—but there was a place for him here, and he fit into it more easily than he probably realized. She had been just a little worried that things would feel forced, that even though Mrs. Giry and Meg had both spent time with him before, everyone being together for an extended period of time like this would begin to feel a bit strained, like she had brought an uninvited guest into their precious family time. Mrs. Giry and Meg hadn't faltered in their pleasantness, though, and had given Christine no reason to suspect that the addition to their family celebration was anything but wholly welcome.

The morning was leisurely, and it wasn't until a while after breakfast that Nadir arrived. Christine greeted him at the door, introducing him to Mrs. Giry and Meg, who both welcomed him warmly. Erik seemed to fluctuate between relief at the familiar face and nervousness at the idea of someone he knew observing him in this situation, but Nadir seemed unsurprised by this.

"Thank you for your kind invitation. You have a lovely home," he said, turning to Mrs. Giry, who smiled in reply.

"Thank you. We're happy to have you."

"The more the merrier," Meg agreed.

"Erik, I have to say, it's a little strange to see you someplace new like this," Nadir said lightly, and Erik cracked a small smile.

"It feels a little strange," he admitted. "But I'm glad to be here."

Christine smiled a little at this, and when they all turned to go into the living room, she slipped her hand into Erik's, not missing the slight quirk of his lips when she did.

In no time at all, Nadir felt as natural in their little family as if he had always been a part of it. The conversation was lively and Mrs. Giry and Meg warmed to him quickly. Christine had told them a little about how Nadir and Erik knew each other—how Nadir had helped Erik through a dark time in his life and they had ended up sticking together—so they at least knew to avoid asking too much about that subject. Instead they talked about the more recent past, about how he and Erik had ended up where they had and how he had decided to open the Nightingale. The bit of tension that had gathered in Erik when Nadir had arrived began to dissipate as they talked, and after a little while he was talking and even laughing more freely than he had before. It warmed Christine to see him that way, comfortably surrounded by people who loved him. It was how things should have been for his whole life, but at least he was here now.

Dinner was an even more elaborate affair than Christine or Meg had anticipated; Mrs. Giry was always excited enough to make holiday meals for the three of them and had apparently been even more excited now that guests were involved. Her efforts were certainly appreciated, though, and every dish was highly praised. And while it wasn't what they had grown used to over the past few years, it was nice to have a fuller table. Christine had always been used to small celebrations—it had just been her and her father for so many years—so the small group had never felt lacking in joy or conversation, but having Erik and Nadir here now made things feel… richer. It added that much more happiness to the little house, made everything feel a little cozier and a little more festive.

Erik was seated beside her, and she reached over to squeeze his hand under the table. He glanced over and gave her a warm smile, which she was grateful for. She wished they could have a minute apart so she could check in with him, make sure this wasn't too much for him, but his smile came easily and she took some comfort in that. As much as she loved being home with the Girys, part of her wished that she'd be leaving with Erik that night, that they could spend the night curled up together on his couch, enjoying just being together. But there would be time for those cozy, quiet winter nights later. For now, she was happy to be here, surrounded by her little cobbled-together family, talking and laughing and cheerful.

Nadir only stayed for a little while longer after dinner, and Christine knew that Erik ought to leave soon, too, or he'd be making the long drive home late. Eventually he agreed that he shouldn't stay longer, although the reluctance was clear in his voice.

"Erik, we're so glad you could join us," Mrs. Giry told him, and he nodded.

"I'm glad too. Thank you for having me."

"I'm sure we'll see you again soon," Meg added, and the comment was met with a small smile.

"I hope so."

Meg and Mrs. Giry glanced at Christine before turning to go back into the living room, and Christine was a little relieved that she and Erik could be alone to say goodbye. As much as she loved them both, she'd been hoping to have a moment alone with Erik.

"Hey," she said softly, entwining their hands. "Thank you for being here. I know that this has been stressful for you."

Erik ducked his head. "I wanted to be here," he told her. "It was important to you."

Smiling, she leaned up to briefly press her lips to his. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"I'll see you in a few days, then?"

"I'm looking forward to it." He seemed to consider for a moment, glancing around quickly before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. He kissed her gently, lingeringly, and she gave him a warm smile when they parted.

It felt like she'd just released a breath that she had been holding as she stood at the window and watched him drive away. Everything had gone well—better than she'd expected, even. The last thing she wanted to do was to push Erik or expect too much from him. But he had seemed fairly comfortable and had warmed to everyone quickly, and the last couple of days had been so pleasant. And now with a week here at home ahead of her, it struck her how much she'd miss his presence, though she felt a little silly for it—it was only a few days. But they had seen each other nearly every day since the semester had started, and while she looked forward to her time with Mrs. Giry and Meg, the days ahead of her felt a little emptier without him.

Still, her days at the Girys' were comforting. Even if it didn't fully feel like home, it felt settled. Easy. Sometimes she wondered what things would be like if her father was still alive, if they had stayed here or if they had ever stayed in one place for longer than a year or so. She always tried not to dwell on that, though. Just being with her father had always felt like home, and being here with the Girys gave her a feeling of safety and comfort that she'd used to worry she had lost forever. And soon she'd return to her other makeshift homes: the cozy apartment she shared with her best friend and the little house on the edge of town where she'd started to find herself more and more.

In no time at all, she was doing just that, driving Meg's car down the now-familiar back roads to Erik's house. Excitement stirred in her as she rounded the last turn and the little house came into view; she hadn't even stopped at her own apartment first, too eager to see Erik to do anything other than come straight here. The days without him—even the days here and there during the semester when they hadn't had a lesson and she'd been too busy to see him—had started to feel incomplete, like they lacked some basic component. She could get through those days just fine—and she really had enjoyed the last few days with Meg and Mrs. Giry—but Erik's absence was noticeable, and she was looking forward to the few days she had just with him.

Erik came out to meet her as she climbed out of the car, and for a second Christine was transported back to that summer when they'd greeted each other with such excitement and such timidity. It was so much easier now, so natural to wrap her arms around him and tilt her face up to meet his lips, feeling his smile as he held her close. The warmth that bloomed in her chest was just the same, though.

"It's good to see you," he murmured against her lips, and she smiled.

"Is it silly to say that I've missed you when it's only been a few days?"

"I hope not," he told her, "because I've missed you terribly."

Her smile widened and she pressed another quick kiss to his lips. "Let's go in. It's freezing out."

Erik chuckled and, entwining their hands, led her inside. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Something to eat?" he asked as she shrugged off her coat.

"I'm fine." Taking a step forward, she closed the space between them again and wrapped her arms around his waist. "It's good just to be here."

He hummed in agreement, pulling her closer. "Did you have a nice stay at home?"

"Very nice. There was a lot of relaxing, which was just what I needed. And you? Have you enjoyed your vacation from me?"

"Your absence has been the low point of the past few days," he said. "But they've been fine otherwise."

Truthfully, he had spent more time than he was willing to admit just waiting for this moment. The past few days had been productive ones, filled with some new compositions and various architecture projects, but all of it had only been a way to kill time until today. It had occurred to him during that time that soon all of his days would look this way again—Christine would be gone and he'd be left with nothing to do but run out the clock. But he'd done his best not to think of the empty days that lay ahead of him. There would be plenty of time for that later, and he preferred to look forward to the pleasant days while he could.

Pleasant days like this one.

It was difficult to imagine anything that could make him more content than he was that afternoon, settled in on the couch with Christine curled into his side, talking with her about nothing in particular. Their few days apart had only made it that much clearer how much sunshine she brought into his life. Having her beside him, feeling her hand in his, was more comforting than he imagined anything else could be. And even now, even after the months that they had been together, it felt like all he could do was marvel at her being here—at her warmth and joy and never-ending patience, and at the almost inconceivable idea that she loved him.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked her with a small smile. It had long since grown dark outside, and the New Years Eve performances played quietly on the TV, though they were only half paying attention to the screen.

Christine shifted to face him, looking intrigued. "Of course."

"Last year, sitting with you and waiting for midnight… I thought about kissing you."

Her smile grew. "Really?"

"I never would have done it," he told her. "But I imagined it. And I really wanted to."

She blushed and looked away. "I thought about it too," she admitted.

"You did?" The question was tinged with both incredulity and satisfaction, and Christine nodded, smiling shyly.

"It feels like such a long time ago," she laughed. "Things were so different then."

"I don't think I could have imagined being here now," Erik agreed. "Not just being with you, but being so… happy and comfortable. I don't think I could have imagined the difference that your love would make."

Her smile softened and she leaned up to press her lips to his. "I don't think I could have imagined it either. I just…" she met his eyes and let out a small sigh as he threaded his fingers through her hair. "You make me feel so happy and loved. I can't even express it. Words never feel like enough. And I love you more than I knew it was possible to love someone."

Her throat tightened as she watched the emotions play across his face at her words. She could spend her whole life telling him that she loved him, she thought, and it would still never be enough—enough to truly convey the depth of what she felt for him or enough to bring him the joy and security and peace that he deserved. It really was unbelievable that they had ended up here from where they had stood a year ago, but she knew that it was a year she would never stop being grateful for.

Gently pulling her closer, he lowered his lips to hers again, and she returned the gladly returned the kiss.

* * *

"Hey, what time is it?"

Erik turned and craned his neck to read the clock on the nightstand, determining that the slight discomfort of the position was better than fully pulling himself from Christine's arms. "It's after midnight." Turning back to her, he smiled gently. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year," she replied, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

He pulled her closer, smiling when she gave a small hum of contentment.

"This year will be a big one," she said softly. "I can't believe I graduate in a few months. Everything's going to change."

Erik hoped that his face didn't show the dread that sat in his stomach like a rock at the thought of those changes, instead trying to focus on the feeling of her idly stroking his arm. "Are you nervous?"

She shrugged. "A bit. I think it's always a little scary knowing that things will be different but not knowing exactly what's coming." Her expression sobered a little as she met his eyes. "Will you tell me honestly if you think something's completely crazy?"

"I'll tell you. What is it?"

"So I've been thinking a lot about what I'll do after graduation," she began, watching his reaction carefully. "And I'm kind of thinking about New York."

It was a moment before Erik could speak, feeling as though the air had been pulled from his lungs. So here was the moment he'd been fearing. He'd known that it would come sooner or later—he'd known from the very beginning that she would leave, that he wasn't a permanent fixture in her life. But he'd at least hoped that they'd avoid talking about it for a while longer, that he could go on trying to ignore it. He forced himself to meet her eyes, trying to keep his expression even. He knew that he could ask her not to go, or lie to her and say that he didn't think it was a good idea, but she deserved better than that.

"I don't think that's crazy at all," he told her quietly, and she smiled for a moment before her expression faltered again.

"I know…" she hesitated, and he braced himself for her next words. "I know that it would be a lot to ask… and I don't want you to answer right now—I just hope that you'll think about it. But… if I did decide to go to New York, is there any chance you might come with me?"

Erik felt his heart skip, and for a second he wasn't sure if he had heard her right and it was all he could do to contain the sudden burst of hope in him. "Would you want me to go with you?" he asked uncertainly.

Christine nodded, the hope on her face mirroring what he felt, and he thought his heart would burst.

"Don't answer right now," she repeated. "I just hope you'll think about it."

He smiled and shook his head in disbelief. "Christine, of course I'll go with you."

She tried to keep her expression serious but couldn't quite hide her smile. "Think about it first," she insisted. "It would be a big change, Erik. We'd be in a big city, constantly surrounded by people. We'd have to live in an apartment. Could you really live like that and not be completely miserable?"

"What would make me miserable is not being with you," he told her gently. "As long as you want me with you, I'll go wherever you go."

Christine's smile grew. "Well, I still want you to think about it. And I have some thinking to do too. But… that certainly makes things easier." Taking his face in her hands, she urged him down to meet her lips. "I love you."

He smiled against her lips; he couldn't stop smiling. "I love you too."


	34. Chapter 34

Christine sighed and relaxed back into the pillows. She really should get up; she had meant to get up a while ago. Rehearsals for _Show Boat_ were starting next week and she had hoped to get ahead on her studying beforehand. She'd told herself that she was going to buckle down and have a productive day. But Erik had lingered in bed with her that morning and had pulled her close, and she'd forgotten why she had wanted to get up in the first place, and now it was an hour later and she was no closer to finding the will to extract herself from his arms, especially if it meant putting an end to the kisses he was lazily trailing along her jaw and down her neck.

"You know, you're really disrupting my plans for today," she told him, smiling when she felt him smirk.

"I haven't heard you complaining," he murmured into her neck, and she wavered between playfully scolding his cockiness and telling him that he would hear no complaints from her if he just kept kissing her like that, but before she could decide, the sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs drew their attention. They paused and looked at each other for a second before they heard Nadir call out.

Erik sighed and called back that he would be down in a minute, quickly climbing out of bed to dress and giving Christine an apologetic look. She met it with mild amusement.

"Did you make plans with Nadir and forget about them?"

"In my defense, you're very distracting," he told her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, you'd better hurry and get down there, then. And I should probably get dressed too."

"That would probably be advisable."

Christine reluctantly pulled herself out of bed and crossed the room to the dresser, rummaging through the drawer that now held a small collection of her things. Glancing up as she pulled out her clothes, she caught Erik watching her admiringly, and she smiled to herself even as she felt her cheeks grow warm.

Hastily finishing doing up the buttons of his shirt, Erik paused to give her one more kiss before hurrying downstairs. Nadir watched him descend but at least didn't seem particularly annoyed.

"I didn't think you'd still be asleep this late," he commented, and Erik shrugged noncommittally, offering Nadir coffee instead of answering him directly.

As they turned to go into the kitchen, the sound of a door opening drew their attention upstairs as Christine emerged from his room, shrugging on a cardigan, and Erik felt his face grow hot at the knowledge that Nadir definitely understood the situation he'd interrupted. Christine saw them and smiled easily, apparently unbothered.

"Hi Nadir," she greeted as she came downstairs. "It's nice to see you."

"You too," Nadir replied, seeming a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were here."

She waved away the apology. "Oh, that's fine. Sorry to interrupt, I just came down to get my backpack."

Her hand brushed Erik's as she passed him, and he was torn between the desire to take it and further embarrassment at Nadir witnessing the contact, although he knew there was no reason to be embarrassed of such a small, innocent display of affection. It just felt awkward in front of Nadir.

"I'll bring you some coffee in a few minutes," he told her as she slung her backpack over one shoulder, and she smiled.

"Thanks, that sounds really good. You guys have a good visit."

Erik's gaze followed her as she turned and headed back upstairs, and he couldn't help the small smile that formed as he watched her go; it was only when she had disappeared into the guest room that he turned and found Nadir watching him with a raised brow. He tried to brush off the prickle of self-consciousness and led them into the kitchen. Preparing the pot of coffee at least gave him something to busy himself with for a few moments, though he tried not to look over at Nadir.

"I'm glad that things seem to be going well for you two," Nadir offered, leaning against the counter.

Erik finally glanced at him. "Thank you."

"She's a nice girl. I can see how happy you make each other."

"I still can't quite believe that all of this is real," Erik admitted quietly. "That I get to see her every day and spend time with her, that she loves me and wants to be with me… sometimes it still feels like a dream that I'll wake up from someday."

"I can imagine that after everything you've been through, being in such a good place must feel a little surreal," Nadir said.

Erik nodded—that much was certainly true. Ten years ago, five years ago, even one year ago, he couldn't have imagined being where he was now. Feeling so safe and so deeply happy wouldn't have seemed possible. He never would have believed that he'd find someone half as kind and gentle and warm as Christine who actually wanted to be with him too. He wondered if any of this would ever make sense, if he would ever understand why she chose to be with him or if he would ever feel even a little worthy of her love.

The coffee had finished brewing and Erik poured a cup for Nadir before excusing himself to take one to Christine as promised. He found her sitting on the bed in the guest room, books and notes spread out in front of her and a look of concentration on her face. She looked up and smiled at him as he entered, gladly accepting the coffee.

"Was it awkward earlier?" she asked quietly. "Nadir seemed kind of surprised to see me coming out of your room."

"A little," Erik confessed. "But not because of you. Nadir and I have never had the kind of friendship where we share… _personal_ details."

She laughed a little and gave him an apologetic smile. "So he knows more than either of you would like him to know about our relationship."

"Yes. But it's fine." He leaned over to give her a quick kiss before turning to go. "Study hard."

"Thanks. Have a good visit."

Erik returned to the kitchen feeling a little more at ease than before and found Nadir seated at the table. Quickly pouring his own cup of coffee, Erik sat down across from him, taking a sip before speaking.

"There's actually something that I wanted to tell you."

Nadir looked at him with surprise; it certainly wasn't often that Erik reached out wanting to talk about something. "What is it?"

Erik cleared his throat, suddenly finding himself unaccountably nervous. "Christine is considering moving to New York after she graduates. Strongly considering it. And she asked me if I would go with her. I told her that I would. Her decision isn't final yet, but it's… probable."

For a moment Nadir sat silently, considering what Erik had just told him, and Erik watched him closely, anxious despite telling himself that he wasn't seeking Nadir's approval. He didn't need it—the decision only concerned Christine and him. He was only informing Nadir about it because Nadir was a friend and should be kept apprised of things like this.

"Erik, that's… big," Nadir said finally, and Erik nodded in agreement.

"It is."

"Have you really thought about this?" Nadir asked carefully, continuing quickly before Erik could become defensive. "Practically, I mean. Of course you love Christine and want to be with her. I understand that. But have you considered what a huge change that would actually be? You wouldn't have the seclusion you have here. You wouldn't be able to escape people; even aside from all the crowds, living with someone, having another person around constantly, can be quite an adjustment."

"Don't condescend to me," Erik snapped. "Of course I've considered all of that."

"I don't mean to be condescending," Nadir replied calmly—that steady calmness had always annoyed Erik when he began to grow agitated. "But I know that you don't always think through your decisions when it comes to Christine. You told me yourself that offering to teach her was spur-of-the-moment and reckless."

"That was different."

"Perhaps. But I know you well, Erik. I'm sure you've thought about the inevitability of Christine finishing school and moving on. And when she asked you to move with her, I can imagine how relieved you must have felt to be given the option of staying with her. I just want to make sure you've really thought this through and aren't just jumping at the chance to stay close to Christine."

"Could you really blame me if I was jumping at the chance to stay with her regardless of what else it meant for me?" Erik argued. "Would it be so horrible for me to want to stay with her when she's the best part of my life?"

"Erik, that's not what I meant." Nadir sighed, sitting back in his chair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I know how much you love Christine and how much good she's brought into your life. It would be more than understandable for you to want to be with her, no matter the cost to yourself. I'm just concerned for you. I want to make sure you've really thought about how much of a change this will be. I'm sure the last thing you'd want would be to grow resentful of Christine for uprooting your life because you weren't prepared for what it would actually mean for you. And you wouldn't want her to feel guilty for making you move if you ended up being miserable because of it."

"No, I wouldn't want that," Erik begrudgingly agreed.

"_But_," Nadir continued, "You're right. I can't fault you for wanting to be with her, and I also shouldn't assume that you haven't thought this through properly."

Erik looked away. "I know you're only concerned," he said quietly after a moment. "You've always looked out for me, even when I didn't want you to, and it's because of that that I'm even here today."

Nadir hesitated, unsure of quite what to say to this. The change he'd seen in Erik over the last year and a half was remarkable and still caught him by surprise at times. It wasn't long ago that Erik had been all but entirely closed off, unwilling to admit to caring or anything else that made him feel the slightest bit vulnerable. Perhaps this acknowledgment from him was argument enough for moving with Christine—it was difficult to argue that she wasn't what was best for him.

"I'm happy for you, Erik," he said after a second. "Really. If anyone else understands just what all of this has meant for you, how much Christine has impacted your life, it's me. I can't understate how good she's been for you. And I'm sure it means a lot to you that she asked you to move with her."

"It does," Erik said quietly. "I've been bracing myself for the end for such a long time—since even before we were together. It's just been this weight that I've tried to ignore, this constant dread in the pit of my stomach. And now, to have that lifted, to know that Christine wants our relationship to continue, to be able to wonder if there might not be an end… it's almost too much. And I'm so incredibly grateful and also… terrified."

"Terrified about what?"

"Of messing things up." Erik sighed. "If she didn't want me to move with her and I ruined the relationship now, I'd lose a few months with her. But if there's potential for the relationship to last for another year, or five years, or _indefinitely_, that's just more time with her that I stand to lose if I ruin things. And knowing that I could have had that time with her and didn't would make losing her all the more unbearable."

Nadir nodded. "I can see why you would feel that way. But remember that you also felt that way at the beginning of the relationship. You were sure that you couldn't handle it, that you'd ruin it. And here you are now with your relationship very much not ruined."

Erik gave a nod but didn't say anything for a moment. It was true that the anxiety he felt now was the same as what he had felt over half a year ago when Christine had told him that she loved him. Then, too, Nadir had reassured him and had been completely correct. There was an odd pang in his chest, then, as it occurred to Erik that moving with Christine would mean leaving behind Nadir, the only real friend he had—Nadir, who had seen him through the most difficult times of his life, who had always been there to counsel him whether he wanted that counsel or not (although, he had to grudgingly admit, it was often good advice). Nadir was the only person other than Christine who had ever really cared about him, and although he had always preferred not to show it, he cared about Nadir as well. What it would mean to leave him… that wasn't something Erik had thought to consider.

The rest of the morning was much less fraught than the beginning. They talked for a while longer about the move before turning to other subjects, and the mood of the visit began to ease. As much as Erik had always claimed not to understand why Nadir would choose the new line of work he had, he was interested in hearing about all the goings-on at the Nightingale. It was certainly a world far beyond Erik's—perhaps that was why he had chosen it, to give himself a reprieve from Erik's quiet and secluded world—and while Erik couldn't exactly say that he wanted to be involved in it, it was at least enjoyable to hear about. Then again, he supposed, if it hadn't been for Nadir and his insistence that Erik get out once in a while, he never would have met Christine. Maybe he did like the chaotic world of that little café more than he admitted.

It was well into the afternoon when Christine asked to join them where they had moved into the living room, saying that she had studied all she could and was in need of a break. They replied that of course she was welcome to join, and Erik couldn't help but smile when she sat beside him on the couch, moving to take her hand automatically before feeling a prickle of self-consciousness about doing so with Nadir watching. Still, it wasn't enough to make him withdraw his hand, and Christine gave him a small smile.

"So Christine," Nadir said. "Erik's told me that you'll be playing the lead in the musical again this year."

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it," she replied. "We actually start rehearsals this coming week."

"She'll be brilliant," Erik told Nadir. "You'll have to come see her perform."

"Oh, I will. I'm sorry to have missed last year's show. Does it feel different going into this year's show than last year's, Christine?"

"A bit. I think I was a lot more nervous about it last year. This year I feel more like I know what I'm doing and I'm mostly just excited about it. Hopefully I'm not just getting overconfident," she laughed.

"You've earned every bit of that confidence and more," Erik said gently before turning back to Nadir. "She's a remarkably hard worker. She's put in a lot of time and effort to get here."

"And my teacher has put a lot of time and effort into helping me," Christine added, looking pointedly at Erik. "I'm very lucky."

"Well, congratulations on getting the part," Nadir said. "That's certainly something to be proud of. And I know Erik's proud of you."

"Thanks," Christine smiled, glancing over at Erik. "I can always count on him for that."

Erik returned her smile, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in his chest as it so often did when Christine was involved. How could he not be proud of her? All of her talent and hard work would be on show again in a couple of months. And soon it would be on display for much larger audiences. Soon she would really get to show off her genius and dedication on Broadway stages. And while she might feel that this assurance that he felt was premature, he simply couldn't imagine anything but success for her.

Nadir stayed and visited into the evening, and even Erik couldn't deny that it was pleasant. Christine brought so much warmth and laughter to the conversation, and she seemed to bring out these qualities in others, too. Everything felt easier when she was around; everything was a little brighter. There was no risk of the tension that his conversations with Nadir could stray into. There was only friendliness and sincerity and openness, and for a moment Erik felt a pang of regret that he couldn't be like this without her, that his and Nadir's friendship hadn't always been more like this.

"Erik, is everything alright?"

Nadir had finally left for the night, and Erik had gotten lost in thought staring into the night after his taillights had disappeared down the road.

"Everything's fine," he replied giving Christine a small smile. "I suppose I'm just realizing what… what it would mean to leave Nadir if we move."

Christine smiled sympathetically and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm sure you'd miss him a lot."

"I've never had a person remain in my life as long as he has. This life that I have now, this stability and security, this sense of _home_… it's all because of him. I've only ever lived this kind of life with him nearby to keep an eye on me. And I've always resented him a little for keeping an eye on me, even though there have certainly been times when I needed it. But now I…" he sighed, pulling Christine a little closer. "I can't quite picture what it would be like not to have that."

Christine nodded. "It's okay if you're having second thoughts," she told him gently.

"I'm not," he replied. "Really, I'm not. I just…"

"I know," she said. "Me too." She did know. As excited as she was about the prospect of an adventure in the big city, about taking a chance and pursuing her dream, it was also frightening and sad and surrounded by uncertainty. It was a step into the unfamiliar, a step away from people that she loved and the places she called home. And if she felt that way, she could only imagine that Erik felt it more so.

The two of them stood there for a while longer, not speaking, just holding each other.


	35. Chapter 35

**Hey, everyone! Only three chapters left after this one! It's hard to believe—I feel like I've been working on this forever. Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. Please do keep sending me your comments—I love hearing from you all!**

* * *

Erik sat at the back of the partially dark auditorium where he'd be no more than a shadowy figure if anyone on stage stopped to look for a moment down the vacant rows of seats. Christine was already in the middle of a rehearsal, seeming entirely focused on perfecting the bit of choreography they were going over. He smiled as he sat and watched her; she was so attentive and quick to learn. Seeing her onstage now, seeing how confidently she carried herself, it was a little hard to believe that she had once looked so nervous and overwhelmed on the little makeshift stage at the Nightingale.

Watching her grow as a performer had been so much more than he had expected it to be when he'd first started teaching her. He'd expected to be proud, of course, though more of the part that he played in her progress than of her. He remembered thinking that she could even be a sort of composition; her success would be a reflection of him as her composer. He wasn't sure when exactly he had dropped that notion, understanding that the success she was bound for could only possibly be a reflection of her own talent and passion. Maybe it had been as early as the first lesson. But somewhere along the way, the part that he played in her growth had stopped mattering. All that mattered was that she was growing and would be able to reach the heights of success that she deserved.

And she was doing just that.

As he watched her now, Erik found himself full to bursting with pride. He'd witnessed the work that she had done, how diligently she had practiced and how eager she was for his advice. She'd poured every ounce of herself into their lessons and it showed. It wasn't just the technical improvements that she'd made; it was how she carried herself, the sureness in her voice when she sang. She glowed on stage.

He watched as she leaned over and said something to the girl next to her, making her laugh, and he couldn't help but smile. She certainly didn't have a hard time befriending the people around her. He supposed that if she could manage to befriend _him_, she could manage to do the same with just about anyone. There was something about her that was almost magnetic, some kind of charm that drew people to her, and an aura of kindness that put them at ease, that made them feel like they were already friends. He'd felt it that first lesson that they'd had together, and while he could hardly say that he'd been put entirely at ease, it had at least kept him from running out the door the moment she came into the practice room. It had kept him coming back to her day after day, week after week, growing a little more comfortable with each lesson. And then, so quickly he hadn't even noticed it happening, he was hooked. He'd _wanted_ to be around her, wanted her to be in his life as much as possible. The realization had terrified him; he'd never really wanted anyone before. The abstract concept of companionship seemed nice enough, but he'd never come across anyone who he actually wanted as a companion. It had been jarring and horrifying and he'd tried his best to convince himself otherwise, but it had been no use.

He didn't think he'd ever be more grateful for anything than he was for the patience and persistent kindness that she'd shown him as they had started to get to know each other. Had she been anyone else, it would have been easy for him to remain closed off to her. It would have been easy to draw the line to ensure that their relationship remained strictly within the confines of the distant teacher/student relationship that he had wanted. But she had gradually drawn him out, and she had done it so gently that part of him hadn't wanted to resist.

They so easily could never have had what they had now. It seemed that there were a million little things that had had to go exactly right for them to end up here, and if any one of those thing had been off, everything would be different now. By all rights, things shouldn't be as they were—it was simply too improbable that she would have fallen in love with him, that he would have _wanted_ her love and in return loved her more than he even knew was possible. Even after all this time, there was still part of him that faintly thought that this was all a dream, that this couldn't possibly be his reality.

The sound of her laugh drew Erik's attention back to the stage, where he saw her shaking her head with a smile and repeating a step that she had just messed up. She repeated the steps one more time, and when the girl next to her confirmed that she had done it correctly, she gave a nod that assured she would not make the mistake again. He smiled a little, faintly and unconsciously, as he watched her. Just seeing her, even from a distance like this, made something inside him settle, put him at ease in a way that he could never accomplish without her.

Christine had seemed hesitant over the past few weeks to talk much further about what they planned to do after she graduated. If either one of them broached the subject, she'd say that she was still thinking about it, listing some pros and cons and making sure that Erik knew he wasn't obligated to do anything that made him uncomfortable, despite his assurances that he wanted nothing more than to be with her, even if that meant a change as big as this one. He could tell that she was nervous about the whole thing, and the last thing he wanted to do was to give her another thing to worry about, another item on her list of cons. He understood the hesitation she must be feeling about the idea of such a big move—he wasn't the only one who would be leaving behind a lot—but he had long expected that this would be the path she'd take, and there was no doubt in his mind that this was the right choice for her. And while he hardly wanted to pressure her into it just because it was the choice that he would make _for_ her, he could at least do what he could to make his support clear.

Pushing these thoughts from his head, Erik refocused his attention on the rehearsal. They should be wrapping up soon and Christine would head out to meet him, as was their routine on most evenings when she wasn't scheduled to work. Sometimes they would go to their practice room to go over some of the issues that arose during rehearsal, but often, especially now that rehearsals had been going on for a while, Christine was worn out and ready to go home. Her days were growing busier as the semester wore on, and there had been more and more days when they had only been able to see each other during their lessons. He could hardly begrudge her all of her hard work and dedication, but those days where they saw little of each other certainly felt a bit desolate. They made evenings like this—evenings that they could spend together, even if Christine could only sit beside him while she studied or talk for a little while before exhaustion overtook her—all the more precious. Erik felt his heart quicken just thinking about it. Soon he'd be with her, get to hold her close and see her smile and hear her voice. And, of course, there was the surprise that he had for her today.

* * *

Christine breathed a sigh of satisfaction as she completed the last steps of the number they were practicing, having hit all of her marks without a single misstep. It had been an intense rehearsal on top of a long day, and her feet were tired and her back was a little stiff and she'd been dreaming about climbing into bed for hours, but she couldn't quite stop herself from enjoying the rehearsal. There was a particular kind of exhilaration that came with rehearsals—seeing the show come together bit by bit, growing more comfortable with her part, knowing that soon they'd be performing this for an audience. The reward of feeling that she was getting a scene just right or mastering new choreography kept her from growing frustrated by the long days and all the little things that still needed more practice.

Still, she was a little relieved when the rehearsal ended and everyone hurried to collect their things and get on with their evenings. She paused a couple of times on her way out of the auditorium to chat with the other cast members, but Erik had told her he'd meet her after the rehearsal and she was eager to find him. She had just left the auditorium and turned down the hall to head toward the practice rooms when she nearly walked into someone, only barely catching herself in time to avoid the collision.

"Sorry, excuse me," she said quickly, starting to step around the man to continue on her way, but she hesitated mid-step as the familiarity of his face registered with her. Pausing for a second, she took half a step back to get another look. The features only bore a vague similarity to the face she knew, but his golden eyes were unmistakable. She let out a little laugh, though she knew that her surprise and confusion must have shown on her face. "Erik, I didn't recognize you at all. What's all this?" she said, gesturing to her own face.

Erik chuckled. "That's exactly the point. Do you like it?"

"It's so realistic." As she looked closer, she could see the makeup and the barely-visible seams of what must have been some very lifelike prosthetics, but she doubted that she would notice anything at all if she only saw him in passing. He'd hardly stand out in a crowd; his face still showed some of its gauntness, but any further disfigurement was concealed.

"I've been working on this for a little while and thought it was time to test it," Erik told her before adding a little more quietly, "I figured I could use something a little more realistic-looking than the mask. We'll be around people more in New York, and I'll be damned if I don't see your Broadway debut."

Christine broke into a smile at this. "So… I take it you're still on board with the idea?"

"I am. I've thought about it a lot, Christine, and I want to be wherever you are. Do you still think that's what you want to do?"

She nodded, her smile growing. She'd known for a while, really—once she had started giving it serious consideration, the idea had just felt right. Even so, she'd been a bit hesitant to make it official. It was such a big decision and it would change so much. So many things could go poorly. But knowing that Erik was on board, seeing how much he'd thought about it, felt like the final bit of reassurance that she'd needed.

"I've also been thinking about it a lot and… yeah. I definitely want to do it."

"So it's decided?" The prosthetics made his expression stiff, but his eyes were warm and his smile was gentle.

"It's decided," Christine agreed. "We're moving." It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders as she finally said the words.

Erik's smile widened and he opened his arms for her, and Christine gladly embraced him, laughing giddily as he held her so tightly that her feet lifted off the floor. This was actually happening; they were actually going. The thought flooded her with excitement. She was sure that later the anxiety would return, but she couldn't think about any of the things that made her feel uncertain or nervous just now. Right now, there was only joy at the prospect of this adventure, at the knowledge that she would be setting out to pursue her dream and that the man to whom she owed all of this, the man who held her so lovingly now, would be by her side.

They didn't linger for long, though—despite the new disguise, Christine could tell that Erik was still a bit wary of being in public, much less of the display they had just made in the middle of the hall. Taking his hand and giving him a warm smile, she led them through the building and outside to Erik's car, parked in its usual spot. Erik relinquished her hand reluctantly for a minute but was quick to resume the contact on the drive back to her apartment.

Christine was quiet during the short drive, her mind racing with all of the preparations and little details that the coming months would require. They would need to find a place to live. They'd need to perfect her audition repertoire. There would be a million little things to figure out, a million tiny decisions to make in addition to all the big ones, and imagining it all now was a bit overwhelming. Somehow, though, that did nothing to dampen the fluttering in her stomach or the unconscious smile on her lips. She and Erik would figure everything out; as much as there was to figure out, she really wasn't all that worried about it. The biggest unknown was finally decided. She'd be moving with Erik by her side, and those were the most important decisions. No matter how everything else went, the result would be the two of them together, building a life, and that was the best thing in the world to imagine.

Exhaustion was beginning to settle in by the time they reached the apartment and she led him inside. Flicking on the lights, Christine sank into a chair at the kitchen table, letting her things fall unceremoniously to the floor beside her. Erik smiled a little as he watched her, and he crossed the room to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Do you have studying to do tonight?"

"Some, unfortunately."

"How about you work on that and I'll make some dinner."

Christine looked up at him with an appreciative smile. "That sounds good. Thank you."

"Will Meg want something to eat?" he asked as he turned toward the kitchen, setting to work easily—there had been many evenings like this and he'd become nearly as familiar with the little apartment as his own house.

"I'm sure she will—today's her long shift at work and she should be getting home soon. That's nice of you to offer." Christine smiled to herself as she stooped to get her notes from her backpack. She wondered sometimes if Erik realized just _how_ comfortable he had started to become in her world. There was still some caution in his interactions with Meg, but she was undeniably part of his life now, and it seemed to Christine that he hadn't even realized that it was happening. Every day she noticed him becoming a little less wary, a little less constantly on-edge, and every little change that she saw warmed her. Most days he seemed like a far cry from the isolated, perpetually uncomfortable man she'd met, and she could only hope that the change brought as much happiness as it seemed to.

When Meg did arrive home a little while later, Erik seemed almost completely unbothered by the addition.

"Something smells amazing," Meg announced, having barely come in the door.

"Erik's cooking," Christine called to her. "You're welcome to join us."

"I will definitely take you up on that. Thanks, Erik." Meg glanced toward him as she stepped out of the entryway and paused, doing a double take. "Whoa."

"He's testing some new prosthetics," Christine explained, and Meg nodded.

"Well, it looks great. I totally wouldn't have recognized you."

Erik's lips quirked in a small smile, though his attention remained focused on the task in front of him. "Thank you."

Christine was glad to set aside her work in favor of dinner when Erik placed a plate in front of her and took the seat beside her. Meg, as she had expected, was happy to join them, and although Erik wasn't quite as relaxed as he was when it was just the two of them, the meal was comfortable.

After dinner Christine led Erik into her room, grateful for this little bit of time when everything was quiet and it was just the two of them. When her days were long and exhausting, it was this time that she looked forward to the most, even if they only had a few minutes together. She dropped onto her bed with a sigh, and Erik laid down beside her, wrapping his arms around her when she curled into him. Her hand rested over his heart, its steady rhythm lulling her nearly to sleep. Just for a little while, there was nothing else to do, nothing to think about other than being here with him, savoring the feeling of his fingers gently stroking her hair. Soon she'd be able to end every night this way—comfortable and content in his arms—and the thought made her smile. How could she be so lucky that this wonderful man was willing to give up so much to follow her?

"Tired?" Erik murmured, and Christine nodded into his chest, unsure of when her eyes had drooped shut but unwilling to open them now. "Do you have more work to do tonight?"

"Only a little bit of studying," she replied quietly, her words a little muffled. "Nothing too bad. I might be able to get away with doing it between classes tomorrow."

"You work so hard," he told her, his voice gentle and warm. "You know that you deserve every single bit of success that you get, don't you?"

Christine smiled. "Everyone works hard. I'm also lucky. I have an amazing teacher and the best, most supportive partner in the world. You make me feel like I can do anything."

"You can."

"Even move to a new city and undertake the slightly daunting task of trying to make it on Broadway?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Especially that."

She shifted to look up at him. "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"It's definitely hard to believe," he said with a chuckle. "Are you nervous?"

"Honestly? Not really." Christine's smile widened. "At least, not right now. I'm sure everything will hit me soon. But right now I'm just excited. And as excited as I am about the move itself and all the opportunities that could open up because of it, I'm just as excited that you'll be with me."

"I can't wait to see what heights you reach," Erik told her. "You were destined for greatness, Christine, and I have the incredible privilege of seeing it happen up close. But I'm every bit as excited for every day and every mundane minute that I get to spend with you. You loving me is by far the biggest stroke of luck I could ever imagine."

Leaning up to press her lips to his, Christine marveled a little at how his words echoed her thoughts; if he was lucky to be with her, surely she was just as lucky to be with him. Sometimes it was easy to believe that luck had nothing to do with it, that they were somehow fated to be together. But she wasn't sure she really believed that. The truth was that whether it was destiny or luck didn't matter—through coincidence or fate they had found each other and had turned out to be just what the other needed. What mattered was this—this moment, the two of them together, ready for whatever the future held.


	36. Chapter 36

It was with relief that Christine and Meg sat down across from each other at the Nightingale, each breathing a little sigh of satisfaction at the much-needed rest. As much as living together ensured that they would see plenty of each other, it wasn't terribly often that their schedules lined up enough that they could spend a full day together, and they had been happy to take the opportunity to do just that. They'd spent a leisurely morning window-shopping downtown, making sure to stop by all their favorite places, and now some caffeine and a chance to sit were very much in order. After a minute or two they reluctantly stood to go to the counter to order their drinks, and they were happy to return to their seats a minute later. For a moment Christine sat silently sipping her drink, enjoying the overly sugary confection she'd ordered.

"I'd say that this has been a successful outing," Meg declared, and she nodded in agreement.

"Very successful. Although I still think you should go back and buy those shoes."

"I might have to," Meg conceded. "Are you still up for going to the movies after this?"

"Definitely." Leaning back in her chair, Christine took another sip. "So you were going to tell me how your date went last night. This was, what, the third with this guy?"

Meg nodded, taking a drink to cover an embarrassed smile. "Yeah, it was good. I like him. I mean, I'm not sure I want anything serious right now—with graduation so soon and everyone moving around, it's not exactly an ideal time to start a relationship—but we're having fun and he seems like a really good guy."

"Good, I'm glad. You must have been out late. You were still gone when Erik left."

"Yeah, I kind of lost track of time," Meg admitted.

"Well, that seems like an indicator of a good date," Christine said, and Meg hummed in confirmation.

"And how're things with Erik?"

"Everything's going well," Christine said with a small smile. "Really well. It actually feels kind of surreal, you know? Like, it's not that I didn't think things would go well, but I guess I just didn't imagine that it would be like this."

"Well that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. Things just feel… like everything's exactly as it should be. He makes me so happy."

"I'm glad to hear that," Meg told her. "It's good to see you so happy. You deserve it."

"Thanks. I just…" she sighed, her smile turning a little sad. "I wish my dad could have met him."

"I know," Meg said sympathetically. "I'm sure they would've gotten along, though. You don't need to wonder about whether or not your dad would have approved."

"I know he would have liked Erik. I guess I just… the longer that Erik and I are together, the more I realize that this is a huge part of my life that my dad will never be a part of, you know?"

"I know," Meg told her. "That's hard."

Christine nodded but glanced away. "I guess I've been thinking about that kind of thing a little more lately—about how much I wish Dad could see how I'm doing now, how far I've come with my voice, and… going to New York."

"He's seeing it all. And I can't even imagine how proud of you he is." Meg gave her a little smile. "So you're definitely moving, then?"

"Yeah, it's definite," Christine said. "Erik and I were looking at apartments last night."

"That's so exciting, Christine. And a big step for you and Erik, too."

"It is," she agreed. "And even though part of me is absolutely petrified that I'm going to fail and all of this is going to fall apart, I feel weirdly peaceful about it. Like, I was nervous about making the decision official, but I was a lot less conflicted about it than I would have expected to be about something so huge, and now that we're preparing for it, I'm mostly just excited about it. It just feels like the right thing for me to be doing."

"It is the right thing," Meg assured her. "I didn't want to push you or try to control your life or anything, but I definitely would've taken issue if you had decided against giving Broadway a try."

Christine laughed. "I'm glad you don't think I'm totally crazy for doing this."

"Honestly, I'd think you were crazy if you _weren't_ doing it," Meg told her, though her smile faded a little after a second. "But I'm really going to miss you."

Christine pressed her lips together, partly wanting to laugh at herself for how hard something so obvious had hit her and partly wanting to burst into tears. Meg had been her constant through the hardest years of her life—the person Christine knew she could always count on, the person who she felt closest to. Even when she didn't take particular notice of Meg's presence in her life, it didn't feel like taking Meg for granted so much as it felt like not having to think about breathing; Meg was just an integral part of her. And of course Christine had realized that moving would put distance between them, but she'd been doing her best not to think about that. Meg's sad smile now broke her heart, and she could only meet it with a watery one of her own.

"I'll miss you too," she said, her voice a little choked.

"But you'll come home to visit," Meg said quickly, and Christine nodded.

"And you'll come visit us when you can."

"Of course I will. Just imagine how much fun we'll have running around New York together! And we'll talk and text all the time."

"Every day." Christine met her eyes and had to force herself not to imagine what it would be like to say goodbye to her best friend. It would happen soon enough—she didn't need to be thinking about it now.

Meg seemed to read her thoughts. "And that's a while away anyway," she said breezily, though her expression didn't quite convey the same levity.

"We have plenty of time," Christine agreed, pushing down the thoughts that told her the exact opposite.

When they stood to leave the Nightingale a little while later, Christine turned and wrapped her arms around Meg, who returned the embrace gladly. Neither said anything, and when they pulled apart after a moment, there was a silent agreement not to bring up the subject again as long as they could avoid it. There was no use in filling their remaining time together with preemptive goodbyes.

* * *

In what felt like an impossibly short amount of time, Christine found herself back in the shared dressing room in the music building, preparing for opening night of _Show Boat_. The room was buzzing with excitement, and she couldn't help but think of how she had felt on her last opening night—excited, yes, but terribly nervous and caught in a sudden wave of self-doubt. This year felt so different. Nerves still pricked at the edge of her mind, but she felt ready. She'd been working so hard to prepare, and every lesson with Erik felt like another step forward. She was ready for this, and even more than that, she was ready for the rush of being on stage again. She couldn't imagine any other circumstance in which she would feel all those eyes on her and not shrink into herself, but performing was different. Under the stage lights, she almost felt like she was growing into herself, blossoming into something more than she could ever be in real life. It was liberating and intoxicating, and when she sang—when she really allowed her voice to soar—it felt like flying. There was nothing that could compare to it, and right now she was too full of anticipation and gratitude to be bothered by only a slight tinge of nerves.

It was hard now not to imagine another first night on stage that would hopefully be in the not-too-distant future, though she tried not to think about it too much. But the idea of getting to perform on Broadway was thrilling, and imagining that first performance, no matter how small the role, sent a shiver of anticipation through her. If she had any serious doubts about whether moving was the right thing to do, imagining what it would be like if she actually managed to land a role was enough to quiet them. There was no question that this was what she wanted to do; the allure of it was too strong to resist. And if she failed miserably, at least she would be able to say that she tried. The very real possibility of failure still frightened her, but she found now that the desire to try far outweighed that fear.

These were thoughts for another night, though, and she pushed them to the back of her mind. She needed to focus on tonight. Her costume and makeup on and her voice warmed up, she only had a few more minutes before she and the other girls would shuffle backstage and prepare to take their places. The opening notes of the overture would make her heart race a little, and then the show would begin and her mind would be too full of lines and notes and blocking to allow for any other thoughts.

Almost without thinking, she was picking up her phone and calling a familiar number. Erik picked up quickly.

"Hey."

"Hey," Christine smiled. "Are you out there?"

"Of course."

In the background, she could hear Meg calling, "Hi, Christine! Break a leg!" and she laughed a little.

"Are you nervous?" Erik asked.

"Not really," she told him, and she could hear the satisfaction in his voice when he replied.

"Good. You have no reason to be nervous—you'll be fantastic tonight."

"I hope so. See you after the show?"

"I'll see you then." Even with the noise of the audience around him, Erik's voice grew soft. "I love you."

"I love you too." Hanging up, Christine tucked her phone away with her other things, took a deep breath as she checked her reflection in the mirror one final time, and followed the other girls out of the room as they all made their way backstage.

The show was a wonderful blur of music and movement and adrenaline. From the opening notes to the final moments, Christine felt herself become completely swept up in it. Her voice came out strong and sure, and as she moved across the stage it felt like she was floating. Every note and step and expression came almost automatically after such disciplined practice, but nothing was thoughtless—she remained very much in her body, aware of everything she did and every movement on the stage around her. And then in a blink it was over and she was taking a bow with her cast mates, breathless and lightheaded and completely giddy. She sought out Erik's eyes in the audience and her smile widened when she found them, and she was met with another rush of excitement at the thought of seeing him in a few minutes. Seeing his smile, hearing him tell her how proud of her he was… the thought made her stomach flutter.

In a moment the curtain fell and everyone made their way back to the dressing rooms or out to the lobby to meet loved ones, chatting excitedly and congratulating each other along the way. The performance had gone smoothly and the relief and exhilaration were palpable. Everyone that Christine passed smiled and told her how well she'd done, how talented she was, how her voice was even better than it had been last year. She smiled and accepted the praise with some embarrassment, quick to return compliments and talk about how fun the show had been. Finally she made it to the now buzzing lobby. Spotting Erik in the crowd quickly—he certainly blended in more with the prosthetics, but he still wasn't completely inconspicuous—her chest tightened a little at the sight of him standing with Meg, Mrs. Giry, and Nadir. Their little makeshift family.

Meg caught her eye and waved to her, and she made her way through the crowd to where they were gathered, beaming by the time she reached them. Hugs were exchanged and there was plenty of fuss made about how amazing she had been, and she thanked them all and told them how glad she was that they could come.

"Well, we assume that all of your Broadway performances will be sold out, so we figured we should come see you while we still could," Meg told her, and she laughed.

"That might be a bit optimistic. But thank you."

"You really were excellent, Christine," Mrs. Giry said with a proud smile, putting her arm around Meg. "It's hard to believe that you girls are ready for the professional world. It seems like just a few weeks ago that I was picking you up from high school."

"It's definitely hard to believe how close we are to graduating." Christine glanced at Erik, giving him a little smile. "But I think we're ready."

They stood and visited for a bit, occasionally interrupted by someone coming over to congratulate Christine, but after a while the crowd was dwindling and she could tell that Erik was eager for more privacy, and she suggested that she should probably go get changed out of her costume. More hugs and congratulations were exchanged as they said goodnight, and then it was just her and Erik wandering down the mostly empty halls to the dressing rooms, their hands entwined. The commotion over, the exhilaration of the night was beginning to fade but tiredness wasn't setting in just yet; instead she was aware of how full her heart felt, how happy she was and how loved she felt. She looked up at Erik and was met with a gentle smile.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him quietly.

"Fine," he told her, and Christine believed it—he'd seemed on edge to be so much in the midst of things rather than discreetly watching others as he normally would have preferred, but he didn't seem horribly uncomfortable, at least.

"I'm really glad that you were here tonight," she said. "Was it any more comfortable being with people you know rather than by yourself?"

"In some ways. But I'm ready to be alone with you now."

She nodded and squeezed his hand. "Me too. Just give me a minute to change, and we'll go home."

Soon they were in Erik's car, and the feeling of being finally, actually alone was a relief to both of them. Erik leaned over and kissed her gently, and she could feel him smile. The drive out of the city and down the increasingly deserted roads to Erik's house was now a familiar one—even in the darkness, Christine could picture the exact scenery around them. And then Erik's house appeared in the little clearing, as unexpected and beautiful as it had been the first time she'd seen it. They climbed out of the car and were heading up the wooden steps of the porch when Erik paused.

"Hold on," Erik said gently, taking her hand to stop her from going inside.

She looked at him questioningly. "What?"

His smile softened as he looked at her, but he glanced away after a moment. "I suppose it's a bit silly, but I… I was just thinking about how it was just about a year ago that we had our first kiss here."

She smiled and stepped closer to him, her arms encircling his waist. "I can't believe that was a year ago."

"I couldn't believe that you had kissed me," he told her. "I couldn't even imagine, Christine, that I could be fortunate enough…"

"I'm sorry that things turned bad so quickly," she said, but she shook his head.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I just want you to know that I'm still so grateful for that kiss, and for every kiss, every moment since then. It honestly baffles me how I could be lucky enough to have you in my life, to know that you care about me. If all the misery that has filled my life was what it took to bring me to you, I would happily go through it ten times over. And to get to see you grow, to watch you on stage tonight…"

The tenderness in his eyes made Christine's breath catch, and she blinked back tears, waiting for him to finish.

"I am so, so proud of you," he said, his voice low and thick. "You are incredible, Christine Daae. In every way. And there just aren't words to express what you mean to me."

Gently, Christine took his face in her hands and lifted herself onto the tips of her toes, drawing his lips down to hers. The kiss started slow and tender, almost timid, as though it carried traces of that first kiss that they had shared a year ago. But his arms tightened around her and familiarity of the embrace returned and the timidity was gone. She held onto him just as tightly, feeling very much as though she couldn't get enough of him, couldn't _do_ enough to express her love for him. It filled her full to bursting, more than she could even understand, and she needed him to know.

She let out a little laugh as they stumbled inside, not bothering to part long enough to make it through the doorway, and Erik smiled against her lips.

"Hey," she said breathlessly, finally pulling away just a little. "I know this kind of puts the brakes on, but could you take off the prosthetics?"

Erik nodded, blinking as his head began to clear. "Of course, if you want me to," he told her, though he sounded a little surprised.

Giving him a gentle smile in confirmation, she took his hand and led him upstairs. He followed her into the bedroom and, with one more quick kiss, disappeared into the bathroom. In a few minutes he returned, finding her sitting on the edge of the bed, and her smile grew when she saw him.

"Much better," she said, the face that she had grown to love so much a welcome sight.

He smiled and shook his head as he crossed the room to her. "I still don't understand how you can think that."

Wrapping her arms around him, she urged him down to meet her lips, savoring the kiss. "It's because this is the face of the man I love," she murmured.

Erik drew back a little, taking in a shaky breath. For a second Christine feared she had upset him, but his expression was full of amazement and adoration. He looked at her for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words, but anything he could say to her felt inadequate.

"I love you," he said finally, hoping that she could feel the depth of the words, how he felt it with every fiber of his being.

She nodded, giving him a watery smile and raising a hand to caress his cheek. "I love you too."


	37. Chapter 37

"Are you sure that a party's completely necessary?" Erik's words were muffled, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, and she could feel his smile. They'd been through this already.

"Yes, Erik, it's necessary if you've never had a birthday party before," Christine told him.

"You know I would be perfectly happy with just the two of us doing something tonight."

She drew back a little to meet his eyes. "We don't have to have a party if you really don't want one," she told him. "The most important thing is that you enjoy today. But, I don't know, I just thought that a little party with the people who love you might be nice. And I don't want you to miss out on experiences that you've never had."

Erik's smile softened and he pulled her close again, his skin warm against hers. "I know, and I appreciate it. We'll have the party tonight."

"And it's only Meg and Nadir," she reasoned. "It'll be nice and low-key. Besides, we have all day to spend just the two of us. If we ever make it out of bed, we can go sing together."

He hummed thoughtfully. "That does sound nice, but I'm also quite content here…"

Christine laughed. "Well, it's up to you. We're doing whatever you want to do today."

"You're determined to make today special, aren't you?" he said, tilting his head to press his lips to hers.

It was an odd thing to celebrate something that he'd never even considered _worth_ celebration before. His birth had always seemed to him at best unworthy of note and at worst something regrettable. But, as always, things were different with Christine. She found today worthy of celebration; he had lived another year, and she wanted him to be as happy about that fact as she was. And, for perhaps the first time in his life, he _was_ happy about that (so, he supposed, if there was any birthday worth celebrating, it was this one). Even when things hadn't been particularly bad, part of him had always questioned whether the effort of being alive was worth it. It had been quite a while since he'd questioned that. Still, actually celebrating was still an adjustment.

One of his earliest memories was a birthday. He remembered the dim light of his mother's house, the constantly closed curtains ensuring that no more than a sliver of sun ever penetrated the artificial yellow glow—he'd always wondered if, after he'd left, his mother had breathed a sigh of relief and opened all the curtains now that she had nothing to conceal. He remembered the old dining table, ornate but scratched and worn, an inheritance from either her parents or her grandparents. That table had always felt needlessly vast. It never seated anyone but the two of them. He remembered looking across the expanse of polished wood at his mother, trying not to watch her too closely because that would surely earn him a scolding; she was always telling him not to stare at her like that. She'd been an attractive woman, blonde and slender with delicate features and intense hazel eyes. Her features were marred by a look of perpetual exhaustion, though, as if she was permanently at the end of her rope, and he knew how easily that face could harden into the cold expression that had always sent a jolt of fear through him, even when he'd grown older and defiant.

But on that night she'd been different. When she'd finished eating, she'd straightened and met his eyes across the table. He'd shrunk back a little, preparing himself for whatever rebuke was coming, but he'd noticed something odd in her expression. There was a strange kind of softness about her face—he now recognized it as guilt.

"I have something for you," she'd said, standing before he could ask what it was.

She'd gone into the kitchen and returned with a small white-frosted cake. The box bore the logo of the supermarket where she had worked at the time. Erik had been confused, but he'd said nothing as she cut a piece of the cake and placed in on his plate.

"Today's your birthday," she'd told him. "You're four years old."

Erik had nodded, taking this in. He knew what a birthday was—he'd encountered them in the books he was learning to read and in the TV shows he half-interestedly watched sometimes. It had never occurred to him, though, that he must have a birthday too, or that these things were recognized at all outside of fiction. He'd looked back up at his mother to find her watching him carefully. He took a bite of the cake and it had seemed to please her, so he'd continued eating it even though the frosting was too sweet and made his tongue feel gritty.

There had been a handful of times like that when his mother had seemed to be struck with a wave of guilt, or something like it, and had tried to make it up to him in some small way. The goodwill would never last long, though. Soon enough he'd do something to frustrate her again and things would go back to normal. He couldn't remember what he'd done on this particular occasion, but he was sure it was something.

Just as Christine had promised, the day was leisurely and comfortable and entirely pleasant. Much of the afternoon was spent in the music room, and despite how many hours they had already spent in this room, it was about the most enjoyable way to spend an afternoon that Erik could imagine—Christine by his side on the piano bench, her voice warm and her smile affectionate as they sang. There truly was no sound in the world than he liked better than the sound of her voice, and when they sang together, their voices melding and harmonizing, it felt… peaceful. Complete. It was difficult to remain focused on the music at times. He'd catch himself listening to her and realize that he was starting to lose track of what they were singing or what he was playing, or there would be a particular moment when everything came together perfectly and it would take his breath away, and he'd have to remind himself not to be completely swept away by it. There were times, too, when he'd glance over at Christine and she'd meet his gaze with a soft smile, and suddenly his heart would feel so full that it was all he could do to keep tears from springing to his eyes.

Eventually Christine stood, pressing a kiss to his cheek and saying that she needed to get things ready, that Meg and Nadir would be here soon.

"You're sure that you want the party still?" she asked gently. "It's not too late to cancel if you really don't want to do this. I wouldn't be offended."

He smiled. "I'm sure, Christine. You're right—I should probably experience this at least once. And, while it does involve more people than I would normally like, I suppose it does sound… pleasant."

Christine laughed a little. "I think you'll enjoy it more than you think. And you know that Nadir and Meg won't stay forever. We'll still have some time alone tonight."

"I'm looking forward to that."

"You should be," she replied, her eyes flashing playfully, and she laughed a little at the slightly astonished look on his face as she turned and left the room.

The only birthday that he'd even come close to celebrating on his own was the first birthday he'd spent in this house. When he'd been wandering, it had been easy to lose track of the days, and even though he'd been relatively settled in Iran, he'd been far from caring about how many days were passing. But then he'd found himself here, feeling relatively comfortable and safe and beginning to live a life that was as close to normal as he believed he'd ever get. There was no more constantly moving from place to place, no more searching for a place to hide himself away. For the first time in years his head was clear, and for the first time in his life he had a home, stability, and security.

He hadn't told Nadir about the date—he really hadn't even thought about it himself. It had just occurred to him halfway through the day, and he had paused as it suddenly hit him how different his life was now than it had been for so many years. It wasn't gratitude, exactly, that he felt—it was more of a dull shock at the fact that he had managed to arrive at a place in life that he'd never expected to get to. He'd poured himself a drink and, for a few moments, allowed himself to sit and let it sink in that this was his life now. He'd been here for a while, but it felt strange and foreign as he really considered it for the first time. There was a feeling of safety that, while perhaps a bit precarious still, didn't feel fleeting. And while his nights were still plagued with nightmares and memories of every horrible thing he'd gone through and every horrible thing he'd done, his days were relatively peaceful (he hardly dared to use the word "peaceful," even in his own mind). It seemed very possible that he could lose all of this in an instant and be right back where he was a few years ago, but at least for now he was here; perhaps he could allow himself to appreciate it.

Part of him felt much the same now as he watched Christine prepare dinner—she had insisted on doing it without help from him, and he was left standing around, feeling a bit aimless. Christine had changed into her red dress—a favorite of his, she knew—and looked nothing short of stunning as she made the final preparations for Meg and Nadir's arrival. She'd glance over at Erik from time to time and gave him that warm, earnest smile of hers that always set his heart racing. Not for the first time, he wondered how he had managed to get here, how his life could have changed so drastically in ways that he wouldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams only a couple of years ago. This wasn't something that he had ever expected or even hoped for, but here he was. Here he was with this incredible person who seemed to have an endless capacity for love and compassion, who made him feel so safe and adored that suddenly the world seemed a bit less dangerous. He'd never felt more distant from his life before her or from the person he'd been then. And even now, after all this time, the fact that she _wanted_ to be here with him was entirely beyond his understanding. He still struggled to bury the fear that this could come to an end at any time. But little by little, he'd found that the fear was growing less insistent, easier to push to the back of his mind. Every moment that she spent with him, every smile that she gave him, every night that she fell asleep in his arms, eased the fear of losing her just a little bit.

They both heard the car pulling up outside, and Christine crossed the room and took Erik's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled and leaned down to quickly kiss her, and again he was struck with the wish that tonight would be just the two of them. But she was doing this for him, he knew; she was doing it to make him happy, and he would be a fool not to appreciate that.

"This will be fun," she said gently, as if reading his thoughts. "I promise."

The front door opened before he could reply, and Nadir came in and greeted them warmly, followed a few minutes later by Meg. Christine met them both happily, and Erik thought that perhaps her enthusiasm was contagious—he had no trouble returning their smiles. In a few minutes they gathered at the table and Christine served the dinner she'd made, and the conversation came surprisingly easily as they ate. Christine blushed and laughed as Meg shared stories that her father had told about her as a little girl, and Erik found himself chuckling at these, feeling the tension leave his shoulders and the slight tightness in his chest fade. It was a bit of an odd feeling to be around multiple people like this and not feel terribly on-edge, but he was beginning to grow accustomed to it. It had been much the same when he had sat with Nadir and the Girys at Christine's opening night: perhaps not entirely comfortable, but nowhere near as uncomfortable as he would have expected. There was even something a little reassuring about having other people around, he supposed, even if it wasn't something he was used to. Maybe this was what Christine had hoped he'd see tonight.

"So how is preparing for the move going?" Nadir asked as they sat comfortably around the table, dinner finished and the dishes cleared away.

"It's coming along," Erik replied. "We have the apartment taken care of, so now we're just figuring out the logistics of getting there."

"The fun part," Christine added wryly, and Erik laughed a little. "But yeah, everything's gone pretty well so far."

"You must be looking forward to the move."

"I am," she said. "It's pretty intimidating, but I'm really excited about it. I think I'll be really relieved when we're there and I can start auditioning. Of course Erik doesn't think I'll have any trouble there, but I'm not expecting landing a part in something to be a quick process and I'm a little antsy to get started."

"I'm with Erik on this one," Meg said, taking a sip of her wine. "I don't think it'll take too long for you to be discovered."

"Well, as long as you guys are sure, I bet it'll be fine," Christine smiled. "Meg, did you bring…?"

Meg nodded. "It's in the car."

"Great." Christine stood and followed Meg out of the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Be right back!"

Erik and Nadir shared a look. "Do you know what this is?" Erik asked.

Nadir shook his head, looking amused. "But I'm happy to see that Christine keeps you on your toes. It's good for you."

A second later Christine and Meg reentered, Christine carrying a large tray with a plastic cover. Placing the tray in front of Erik and removing the cover, she revealed a prettily decorated cake, complete with candles.

"I made it at home so you wouldn't see it," she told Erik, and he gave her a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Christine. This looks very nice."

She returned his smile and turned to get the lighter. Coming back to stand by his side, she quickly lit each of the candles and glanced at him expectantly, and he gave her a slight nod. He'd said explicitly and repeatedly that, if they were to have a party, presents were not to be involved—the idea of sitting there while everyone watched him receive gifts made his skin crawl a little—but this, at least, seemed tolerable enough. Putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Christine led the singing, and Erik looked down at the cake, his throat suddenly tightening and his face growing pleasantly warm under the mask. Having people in his life, people who cared enough about him to be here tonight, was indeed an odd feeling. But he was beginning to think that perhaps it was odd in a good way.

He looked up again when they had finished singing, glancing briefly at Meg and Nadir before he turned his head to look at Christine. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Her answering smile was warm and gentle. "Make a wish and blow out the candles," she told him.

He paused for a moment before blowing out the candles; he wouldn't tell her that he hadn't actually wished for anything. He'd never been one for wishful thinking, but more importantly, he hadn't been able to think of anything to wish for. Christine looked satisfied, though, and she pressed a quick kiss to the side of his head before cutting and serving the cake.

Nadir and Meg didn't stay too late into the night. Meg left a little while after they had finished the cake, citing an early rehearsal the next day, but warmly wishing Erik a happy birthday before she left. When Erik thanked her for coming, his thanks was sincere. Nadir rose to leave a short time later, and Erik walked with him to the door.

"This was a nice night," Nadir said, and Erik nodded.

"It was. Having people around was… more pleasant than I expected."

Nadir chuckled. "I'm glad that you're finally starting to feel that way. I've always thought that having more people around you would do you good."

Erik hesitated, his words feeling a bit awkward when he spoke. "Thank you for always being around," he said quietly. "Even when I didn't want you to be. You've put up with a lot from me, and I… I appreciate it."

Nadir looked a little surprised by the statement, but he nodded and clapped Erik on the shoulder. "You're welcome."

Erik gave another nod, unsure of what to say, and Nadir turned and walked out into the night, leaving Erik to stand for a moment and watch him go. It was a bit of a relief to be alone with Christine again, but that wasn't the only reason for the lightness he felt, for the warmth in his chest. He turned down the hall to find Christine cleaning up in the kitchen, and her expression softened when she looked up and saw him.

"So was tonight okay?"

He crossed the room to wrap his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I enjoyed this, Christine. Thank you."

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer. "I'm glad. I just wanted you to know that I'm not the only one who loves you."

"I know," he said softly. It wasn't something that he had expected to know or believe. But, as always, Christine seemed to have a way of convincing him.


	38. Chapter 38

**You guys. I cannot believe we're at the final chapter already.**

**This will probably be a long note because I have a lot of feelings, but if you want to skip all of that and get straight to the chapter, at least read this first part: I have put together a nice, pretty, DOWNLOADABLE version of the full fic for you all. You can download the story as a PDF and keep it forever. The link to download is in my profile and will be on my Tumblr shortly.**

**Also, I do have a couple of new fics in the pipeline (including a bit of Nightingale-verse Christmas fluff, because it hasn't been Christmas enough in this story), so if you're interested in that, please do follow me. New stuff will be up very soon.**

**Finally, I just want to give a huge thank you to everyone for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting this story. I've been working on it for over four years, and it has honestly been a huge comfort to me during a very hectic period of my life. It got me through my last year of college, a cross-country move, getting my first job, tons of excitement and change (both good and bad), developing severe anxiety, _another_ cross-country move... yeah. During all of that, working on this story was like wrapping myself in a warm, cozy blanket. I was so excited to start sharing it, and it has meant so much to me to hear from you all as you've read it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.**

**If you've enjoyed this story, let me know, and I'll see you again soon. Happy reading!**

* * *

Christine sat down with a huff in the midst of what felt like a sea of partially packed boxes, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath. The weather was unusually hot for so early in the summer—graduation had only been a week ago—and between the warmth and all of the walking upstairs and back downstairs, carrying, stooping, lifting that had taken up the morning, she was growing uncomfortably sticky. All around her in the living room were cardboard boxes, some taped shut but most still in progress, and scattered items categorized into groups and piled vaguely together. They were attempting to keep everything as organized as possible, but at this point Christine had to admit that the temptation to just start throwing things into boxes was growing. There were plenty of things left to pack, and they were still figuring out what could be kept in the house during their absence and what should be packed away and stored.

Christine's own packing had been much simpler. Meg would keep most of their furniture and kitchenware since she was staying in the area and wouldn't have to move it far, and that left Christine with only her clothes and a few books and sentimental items. Packing for Erik was… different.

But she couldn't really begrudge his vast collection of _stuff_, even as the packing stretched on and their moving day approached. In a lot of ways, this had been his first real home; it was the first place where he had decided to settle, where he had decided to take a risk and not be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. He'd made it comfortable, filled it with almost anything of interest, and each item was further confirmation that he was staying here, that this was his home. It was certainly interesting to sort through. In addition to his extensive and varied record collection, he had a similarly varied but much less organized library, as well as a broad assortment of knick-knacks and gadgets that had caught his attention in a moment of boredom. And, of course, there was the colossal undertaking of the music room, which had kept Erik busy for the past few days. They had managed to find an apartment with a spare room that he could use, but the space was much smaller, and at any rate, transporting the music room in its entirety would have been quite an undertaking. Erik knew this and had given no indication that he was regretful about leaving anything behind, but Christine couldn't imagine that this was easy for him.

Her tired muscles protested as she stood, but she ignored it and picked her way across the piles to get to the music room. She found Erik seated on the piano bench sorting through sheet music. The room was far barer than she had ever seen it, the instruments packed away and the barely contained chaos that had always made the room feel so much like Erik far diminished, and she did her best to hide the twinge of sadness that the sight evoked. Erik looked up from his work and smiled at her.

"I'm making progress."

"I can see that," Christine said, her eyes roaming the room again. "It looks so different in here."

"How are things going out there?"

"Pretty good. It looks like a disaster, but I actually think I've got a handle on everything. It should go pretty smoothly from here. It'll definitely be done by tomorrow night."

Erik set aside the pile of music he'd been sorting through and moved over to make room for her on the piano bench, and she accepted the invitation gratefully. They were leaving the day after tomorrow, and that knowledge brought on mixed emotions; she was glad for Erik's presence, for the reminder that there was at least one very important thing that wasn't changing.

"Thank you for doing all of this," Erik told her, glancing out into the living room. "This whole process would be much easier if you weren't bringing me along. I'm sure that packing this house is more than you bargained for."

Christine laughed a little. "Maybe the packing would be easier, but literally nothing else would be. You know that I'm so, so grateful that you're coming with me, right?"

Erik gave her a gently smile. "Do you know that I'm so, so grateful that you want me to come with you?"

She nodded. "I think I have some idea. It can't be easy for you to leave behind this life that you created for yourself. After everything that you've gone through, this was meant to be safe and comfortable and permanent. And now you're leaving it for something completely different and unfamiliar, and you still seem… happy to do it."

"It is… a strange feeling to be leaving this," he admitted. "But Christine, when I decided to settle here, to create a life where I could feel safe and have a future, I built all of this around the assumption that I'd be alone. This home and everything in it was meant for a life of almost absolute solitude. And being with you, living my life with you… that's so much better than the best that I could have possibly imagined. A future with you makes the best possible future that I had planned for myself seem indescribably lonely and meaningless. You have no idea how easy of a decision it was—choosing to leave this to go with you."

Christine smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "You know you always say just the right thing." The packing felt a bit easier after that.

The next day was a bittersweet one spent with Meg and Mrs. Giry. Mrs. Giry had brought some of Christine's belongings from home, and the three of them sat and visited while Christine packed the last of her things. Christine tried not to think too much about how tomorrow morning she'd be saying goodbye to them. It's not like she'd be saying goodbye forever, of course—she and Erik would come back when they could, and Meg and Mrs. Giry were already excitedly making plans to come and visit them in the city. But they'd be so far away. _She'd_ be so far away from the only home she'd had during the worst period of her life. She'd be far away from the people who carried her through that period. She'd be far away from the place where she'd spent her last months with her father. For a while, before she had made the decision to move official, she had mulled over this knowledge carefully, expecting it to sway her away from the desire to move. And it hadn't, not really. The move was the right thing for her to do, and she was confident that she had made the right choice. But that didn't make the goodbyes less sad.

"I think that's everything," Christine said, wiping her hands on her shorts as she looked around the apartment. She hadn't missed anything—all of her things were carefully packed, and all that was left was to take the final boxes over to Erik's to load into the trailer they'd rented.

"Hard to believe," Meg said, taking in the half-empty apartment from her seat on the couch.

"What, that the move is imminent or that I'm fully packed?"

"Both," Meg laughed, although the smile she gave Christine was a little sad.

Christine returned the expression and sat down between her and Mrs. Giry, unsure of what to say—she was determined not to be sad just yet, but she didn't think she could make a lighthearted reply around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

"Christine, I brought one more thing for you." Mrs. Giry rifled through her purse and pulled out a small picture frame, handing it to Christine gingerly. "I found this photo the other day and thought you might like to take it with you."

Christine took the frame and turned it over to examine the picture inside, and tears immediately sprang to her eyes as she looked at it. It was a photo of the four of them—the Girys, her father, and her—that summer right before he was diagnosed. She and Meg had their arms around each other like long-lost friends who had just been reunited, despite the fact that they spent nearly every day together, and everyone was beaming. Sometimes it was hard to remember moments like this when she thought about her father; sometimes it was hard to remember anything beyond the final days in the hospital or the months leading up to those days where she'd watched him waste away. In the face of how hard the end had been, it had taken Christine a while to remember the days when there had been joy. That summer with the Girys had been the best summer of her life. It'd been the first time she could recall when she'd felt a sense of home and belonging outside of her father. She remembered wishing that she and her father would never have to move again, never have to break up the little family that the four of them had formed. And now she was doing just that, and as happy as she was, she couldn't help the tears that began to fall or the wave of grief that swept over her.

Meg's arms were immediately around her, and in a second Mrs. Giry was embracing her as well, and Christine held onto them tightly.

"It's okay," Mrs. Giry soothed, stroking her hair. Christine nodded but made no move to release her or Meg. They remained there holding each other for a few minutes before Christine did eventually pull back, wiping her eyes and sniffling.

"It's okay," she repeated with a watery smile, although she wasn't sure if she was speaking more to them or to herself. "It's okay. I'm happy about the move, really. It's what I want and what's right for me right now. But I'm really going to miss you, and I just want you both to know how much you mean to me. You were there for me when I needed you most, when I felt like I had nothing, without even a thought. And you've never stopped being there for me. I couldn't have asked for a better family, and I love you both so much."

Meg smiled, swiping at the tears that she couldn't quite contain. "We love you too, Christine. I'm so happy for you and I know you're going to do great things, and I'm so excited to see what you achieve. But I'm going to miss you so much. I feel like I'm going to be missing half of myself, you know?"

Christine nodded, swallowing hard. "I know."

"But even though we'll be far away, we'll still be there for you," Mrs. Giry said gently. "We'll be cheering you on and supporting you in everything you do. And you can always come home, no matter what."

"Even if I'm coming back because I failed miserably at everything?" Christine asked lightly, but Mrs. Giry remained serious.

"Of course. You're hugely talented and capable, Christine, and everyone who loves you can't help but believe that you're going to accomplish some truly impressive things. But if everything goes wrong, no one's going to be disappointed in you. Your dad firmly believed that you'd be a star, but as happy as he would be to see how talented you are now, he'd be far prouder that you're trying—that you're pursuing your dream with so much passion and dedication and courage. That was what he wanted for you more than anything else. That's what we all want for you."

Again, Christine nodded and blinked back tears, her throat feeling too tight to speak right away. "Thank you," she said after a moment, her voice a little shaky. "You have no idea how much that means to me. And what having a home to come back to means to me. Knowing that I have both of you supporting me makes this whole thing a lot less scary."

"We're with you all the way, no matter what," Meg replied, squeezing her hand. Mrs. Giry took the other, and for a long while they sat like that, just savoring the moments they had to spend together.

That night, as she carefully tucked the photo into her suitcase, Christine felt Erik's arms wrap around her waist. She smiled and leaned back into his chest.

"All ready?" he asked softly.

"Amazingly, yes," she said. "You?"

"I'm ready too."

"I guess the only thing left to do is to go." When she turned to face him, she found a faint trace of sadness in his smile that mirrored her own.

"Let's go sit outside for a while," he suggested, and she nodded and took his hand, allowing him to lead her outside into the backyard. There they laid back in the cool grass, the blades tickling Christine's bare skin. The vast night sky stretched out over them, dotted with flecks of light that she knew would be invisible from their new home. The air was warm and the gentle breeze smelled faintly of rain; everything around them was still and fresh and perfect. Sighing a little, Christine shifted closer to Erik, draping her arm across his chest and tangling their legs. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, tightening his arm around her.

"I'm going to miss this," she said.

He didn't seem confused by her vagueness. "So am I."

"Promise we'll come back often?"

"Of course."

The silence settled in again, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the soft rush of the breeze through the trees. Once again, Christine did her best to blink back the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes. New York was seeming very far away.

"I don't know if I could do this without you," she said quietly.

Erik shifted a little so he could meet her eyes. "You could," he told her, and she smiled at his conviction, his belief in her as unfaltering as it always was.

"Maybe," she allowed. "But I'm glad I don't have to."

Erik said nothing but pulled her closer. There was no doubt in his mind that she could do this without him. This was absolutely what she was meant to do. But there was no way he'd be doing this without her. It was actually something that he'd thought a lot about, despite his complete certainty that any situation would be worth it if it meant he got to stay with her. He was heading into an entirely new life, leaving behind the only semblance of a secure and peaceful existence that he'd ever had. This move was no small matter. Truthfully, though, he wasn't afraid. This existence was one he'd created as an escape from the world—he'd long before given up the hope of being met with anything but hatred and ignorance, and the best that he could hope for was to distance himself from the world as much as possible. But then Christine had come into his life and bits of the world came with her, and he was beginning to think that perhaps it was time to, little by little, start to venture back into the world a little more. Maybe, with her by his side, things would be better than before. If there was any hope for him at all, it was because of her.

The air felt slightly electric the next morning, as if the world was ready for something and was just waiting for it to happen. Christine woke early with an odd feeling—a mix of giddy anticipation at the prospect of the adventure ahead of her and a kind of preemptive homesickness at the thought of the goodbyes she'd be saying that morning. A few deep breaths did nothing to steady her, so she rose and focused her energy on making sure that every last thing was ready for their departure. She and Erik finished packing the car and hitched up the trailer, and they were making a few final preparations to the house when the cars pulled up outside. Christine glanced at the time and felt her heart sink a little. Everyone was here to see them off, and it was time for the goodbyes that she'd been determinedly distracting herself from thinking about. It was time for them to go.

She and Erik met everyone outside, locking up the house behind them. Christine took Erik's hand as they descended the porch steps, not ready to start crying just yet although she already felt the tears pricking her eyes and needed the reassurance of her hand in his. Nadir, Mrs. Giry, and Meg all stood in the driveway, and Christine could tell that Meg and Mrs. Giry were, like her, struggling a little to maintain a cheerful expression. Even Nadir, as calm and stoic as he so often was, couldn't quite keep the sadness from his smile. No one spoke at first, and after a few more steps Christine released Erik's hand and hurried over to embrace Meg and Mrs. Giry. Erik approached Nadir and, when he hesitated for a moment, Nadir opened his mouth to say something. But then Erik opened his arms, and Nadir accepted the brief embrace with no small amount of surprise.

"I'm glad that you're doing this," Nadir said quietly, and Erik nodded, knowing that he meant more than that. It wasn't just the move—it was everything about where he was and who he was now, a far cry from the man he'd been when they'd met.

"Thank you," he said, knowing that Nadir would know that he meant more than that as well.

Christine finally released Meg and Mrs. Giry, wiping her eyes with a small smile. "I love you."

"We love you too," Mrs. Giry said softly.

Meg nodded, sniffling. "We love you, Christine. Have so much fun. Take Broadway by storm."

Christine laughed a little and turned to embrace Nadir as well, and Erik received quick embraces from the Girys. There were more well-wishes, plans to talk soon, bids of "drive carefully," and "let us know when you get there." And then there was no more stalling to do, and Erik and Christine turned to the car, turning back to wave before they climbed inside. Christine felt a fresh rush of tears come on as she settled into her seat, but when Erik reached over to take her hand and give her a soft smile, her replying smile was warm and genuine. They were really doing this; _she_ was really doing this. This lifelong dream that had felt so far away, so far out of her grasp…. She was taking the leap, and Erik would be beside her. Whatever came next, he'd be with her, loving her and giving her more courage and determination than she'd ever known she'd had and making her love him more than she'd imagined she could love someone. As she looked at him, her heart felt full to bursting.

"Are you ready?" he asked her gently.

Taking a deep breath, Christine nodded. "Absolutely."


End file.
